So, while the new actress's name was floating over many a dainty restaurant supper, its owner sat beneath one gas-jet, between mother and pet, eating a large piece of bread and a small piece of cheese; and, thankful for both, she talked to her small circle of admirers, telling them all about it, and winding up supper and talk with the declaration: "Mother, I believe the hearts are just the same, whether they beat against Western ribs or Eastern ribs!"
Then, supper over, I stumbled through my old-time "Now I lay me," and adding some blurred words of gratitude (God must be so well used to sleep thanks, but very wide-awake entreaties!) I fell asleep, knowing that through God's mercy and my own hard work I was the first Western actress who had ever been accepted by a New York audience, and as I drowsed off, I murmured to myself: "And I'll leave the door open, now that I have opened it—I'll leave it open for all others."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIFTH
I Am Accepted by the Company—I am Warned against Mr. Fisk—I Have an Odd Encounter with Mr. Gould.
The following morning we were called to the theatre at eleven o'clock to have the play cut "judiciously," as old actors used to say. It was very loosely constructed, and, besides cutting, the entire drama required a tightening-up, as it were.
Mr. Daly was the first to greet me and offer hearty and genial congratulations. Everyone followed his example, and that morning I was admitted into the family circle and came into my just inheritance of equality and fraternity.
A little surprised, but very happy, I gave back smile for smile, hand-pressure for hand-pressure; for being held off at arm's length by them all had hurt worse I'm sure than they knew, therefore when they offered me kindly greeting I did not stop to study out the cause of this effect, but shut my eyes and opened my mouth, and took what luck had sent me, and thankfully became so much one of them that I never had a clashing word with a member of the company—never saw the faintest cloud darken our good-fellowship.
That morning, as the cutting was going on, I advanced and offered my part, but Mr. Daly waved me away. "No," he said, "there's plenty of useless matter to take out, but the public won't want Anne cut, they have none too much of her now."
He gave but few compliments, even to those he liked, and he did not like me yet, therefore that gracious speech created a sensation among the other hearers and was carefully treasured up by me.
Another of his sayings of that morning I recall. In conversation with one of the ladies, I remarked: "As a Western woman, I suppose I have various expressions to unlearn?" when Mr. Daly turned quickly from the prompt-table, saying, sharply: "Miss Morris, don't say that again. You are a New York woman now—please remember that. You ceased to be a Westerner last night when you received the New York stamp."