came to first readings until the whole cast was assembled and
could be impressed with the fact that she came and went as she listed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I take it that you all know one another--and Mr.
William Rooney," said Mr. Vandeford, as he took a seat at the left of a
table placed in the center of the stage just beyond the footlights. Mr.
Rooney marched to a place beside him, and rapped with a large black
pencil for attention from the groups into which the dozen members of the
cast had fallen after mutual introductions and greetings.

"Everybody grab a seat that is good enough to glue to for five hours
while Fido here gives out your parts," commanded Mr. Rooney, without in
any way acknowledging Mr. Vandeford's introduction to the company. Mr.
Rooney's voice was low and rich, and had the precision and decision of a
machine-gun in its utterances. With hurried obedience the entire company
looked about the stage for seats.

Miss Bebe Herne, though having fifty pounds the advantage of any of the
others in avoirdupois, was the first seated. She merely dropped down
upon a stout pine bench, the front of which was stuccoed to represent
antique marble, and peremptorily motioned Mr. Wallace Kent to that
portion of the seat left after she had wedged herself as far to one side
as possible. Mr. Kent obeyed immediately, though he had just placed a
rickety, stuffed chair beside the gold one occupied by Miss Blanche
Grayson, the glowerer. Miss Lindsey sat on the end of an overturned box
hedge before a drop curtain of a twilight night, and Mr. Reginald Leigh
sat in a wicker chair under a brilliant canvas flowering shrub of no
known variety. The rest of the company were soon seated and receiving
the small, blue-backed, manuscript books from the pale young man whom
Mr. Rooney always addressed as Fido.

"Everybody here but Miss Hawtry," said Mr. Rooney, and he glared at Mr.
Vandeford as though that gentleman must be concealing the star in the
pocket of his gray, silk-crash coat.

"And Miss Hawtry is here also," came in a very beautifully modulated
voice from left stage, as the tardy star came down center, and stood
directly in front of the table at which sat the producer and his
stage-manager. Mr. Vandeford rose immediately and said good-morning; Mr.
Rooney kept his seat and looked Miss Hawtry through and through with a
cold reproof.

"Five minutes late," he said with an edge in the words that cut.

"I really beg your pardon