seized upon it and lifting herself, with scarlet face and neck and breast, she stood once more upon her feet. And then the storm broke loose; peal on peal of thunderous applause shook the house. But four times in my life have I risked throwing flowers myself; but that night mine were the first roses that fell at her feet. She seemed dazed; quite distinctly I heard her say "off" to some one in the entrance, "But what's the matter?"
At last she came forward. She was plump almost to stoutness, but she moved most gracefully. Her bow was greeted with long-continued applause. Sympathy, courtesy, encouragement, welcome—all were expressed in that general and enthusiastic outburst.
"Why," said she after all was over, "at home they would have hissed me, had that happened there."
"Oh!" exclaimed one who heard, "never; they could not be so cruel."
"Oh, yes," she answered, "afterward
they might have applauded, but not at first. Surely they would have hissed me."
And with these words ringing in my ears, no wonder that, figuratively speaking, I knelt at the feet of a New York audience and proudly kissed its hand.