“Still, I have heard that even the players beside him on the stage are sometimes carried away with the force of his acting,” said Kitty.
“A paltry excuse for forgetting their lines!” sneered Mr. Bates. “Ah! no actor could make a fool of me!”
“Would anyone think it necessary to improve on Nature's handiwork in this respect?” asked Kitty demurely.
“How?” For a moment Mr. Bates had his doubts as to whether or not the lady meant to pass a compliment upon him. The demure look upon her face reassured him. “You are right, madam; they could easily see what I am,” he said, tapping his chest.
“They could, indeed, sir,” said Kitty, more demurely than ever.
“I do not doubt, mind you, that there is a certain superficial ability about this Mr. Garrick,” resumed Mr. Bates in a condescending way.
“I am sure that Mr. Garrick would feel flattered could he but know that he had the good opinion of Mr. Bates,” remarked Kitty.
“Yes, I know that I am generous,” said Mr. Bates. “But this Garrick—I wonder what his Hamlet is like.”
“It is like nothing, sir: it is Hamlet,” cried Kitty.
“You have seen it? What is he like when the ghost enters? I have made that scene my own.”