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In appearance, the first night seemed to be going off as usual. The usual bored looking critics were in the aisle seats, the usual enthusiastic crowd of relatives and friends of the cast and of the author were there, highly pleased with everything beginning with the setting for the first act, which they applauded on the rise of the curtain without knowing anything about it, to the appearance of the second maid and butler, who had tremendously small parts and tremendously noisy and enthusiastic followers in the orchestra and balcony of the theater.

As is usual at first nights, there were small hitches. The lines were forgotten once or twice by nervous actors, and were supplied in loud, hoarse whispers from a prompter in the wings, whose red face was occasionally visible when he got too agitated and leaned out a little too far. At the end of the first act the curtain stuck and did not come down for a full thirty seconds, making it difficult for the actors on the stage to hold the tableau, as they had, unfortunately, no more lines to speak and dared not call on their imagination in the way of collaboration with an author who