THIRTY-ONEIT was incredibly wonderful to be kissed and hugged by my fellow performers, beaming musicians, and complete strangers. It was marvelous fun to watch Mr. Lumley’s anxiety to get my name on a contract, and see him turn pale when three rival managers, ostensibly coming to congratulate me, warned me in undertones that haste made waste. It was sweeter than honeycomb to hold court in the wings to the great as well as to the humble, and yet never forget that it was the latter from whom I held fief.
More notes than I could read, mainly written on programs, were brought up by the ushers. The number of johnnies who offered to escort me home had been unequaled since the last appearance of Charlotte de Hagn. A countess gave me her flowers; and a quaint old fellow presented me with a shamro
