“Yes.”
“Did I! I should guess yes!”
“Thought you were brought up on the stage.”
“Was.”
“Then I don’t see why you should have stage fright.”
“It’s a mighty funny thing, I tell you. I began as an infant prodigy, and I don’t s’pose anything ever scared me till I was playing soubrette parts. One night I got it, just as hard. Opened my mouth to speak, and, by George! I couldn’t make a sound. I just stood there like I was nailed to the boards. Pretty quick I began to shake, and you’d thought I was taken with the ague. It was terrible, I thought I’d faint. After a while, I got strength enough to rush off, and then I had fits in one of the dressing rooms.”
“That was strange.”
“No. ’Most ev’rybody gets a touch of it sooner or later. When it was all over, I was so hopping mad I didn’t know what to do. I went on again and played right through the piece without a quiver, and I’ve never had a touch of it since. But I had to have it some time. Some people never get over it fully, but with most folks, one attack ends it. I hope you won’t have it to-night, Frank.”
“I hope so.”
“Well, I’ll git. ’Scuse me for the bother.”