“My dear fellow,” the old Scotsman replied languidly, “there are at least three thousand women in New York to-day, young and old, who think they can act and want a chance to take your money. I’ve seen twenty-nine hundred and ninety-nine of them!”
“There must be some good ones eager for the opportunity we offer.”
“All those that are any good, and many that aren’t, have signed up with Einstein & Flukeheimer and the other managers. I tell you they have passed the word up and down Broadway to have nothing to do with us. They call us cranks!” the old actor cried. “We are blacklisted, sir—that’s what it is.”
“But with this great chance to do something for dramatic art?” Brainard protested, quoting from a conversation he had had with a famous actress.
“Talk!”
“The opportunity to devote themselves to their profession, relieved of all sordid cares?”
“More talk!”
“Their desire to subordinate personal ambitions for the good of dramatic art?”
“All talk!”
“We’ll have to double the salaries, then.”