"Well, as a general thing, I think he will look wonderfully like the character he is playing. Oh, don't frown so! He—well, he is not beautiful, neither can I imagine him a pantaloon actor, but his face will adapt itself splendidly to any strong character make-up, whether noble or villainous." Mr. Daly was looking pleased again. I went on: "He aspires, I hear, to Shakespeare, but there is one thing of which I am sure. He is the mightiest man in melodrama to-day!"
"How long did it take to convince you of that, Miss Morris? One act—two—the whole five acts?"
"His first five minutes on the stage, sir. His business wins applause without the aid of words, and you know what that means."
Again that elongated "A-a-ah!" Then, "Tell me of that five minutes," and he thrust a chair toward me.
"Oh," I cried, despairingly, "that will take so long, and will only bore you.
"Understand, please, nothing under heaven that is connected with the stage can ever bore me." Which statement was unalloyed truth.
"But, indeed," I feebly insisted, only to be brought up short with the words, "Kindly allow me to judge for myself."
To which I beamingly made answer: "Did I not beg you to do that months ago?" But he was growing vexed, and curtly commanded:
"I want those first five minutes—what he did, and how he did it, and what the effect was, and then"—speaking dreamily—"I shall know—I shall know."
Now at Mr. Daly's last long-drawn-out "A-a-ah," anent Mr. Irving's winning applause without words, I believed an idea, new and novel, had sprung into his mind, while his present rapt manner would tell anyone familiar with his ways that the idea was rapidly becoming a plan. I was wondering what it could be, when a sharp "Well?" startled me into swift and beautiful obedience,