He ran up-stairs to the night editor. “Mr. Dorney, have you the theatre proofs? I'd like to make a change in one of the theatre notices.”
“Too late for the first edition, my boy. Is it important?”
“Yes, an exceptional case. I'll deem it a personal favour.”
“All right. I'll get it in the city edition. Here are the proofs.”
“Let's see,” mused the dramatic editor, looking over the wet proofs. “Who covered the —— Theatre to-night? Some one in the city department. I suppose he 'roasted' Gugley, or whatever his name is. Ah, here it is.”
And he read on the proof:
“The revival of an ancient burlesque on 'Faust' at the —— Theatre last night was without any noteworthy feature save the pitiful performance of the part of Mephisto by a doleful gentleman named Thomas Mogley, who showed not the faintest of humour and who was tremendously guyed by a turbulent audience. Mr. Mogley was temporarily taking the place of William Renshaw, a funmaker of more advanced methods, who will appear in the rôle to-night. There are some pretty girls and agile dancers in the company.”
Which the dramatic editor changed to read as follows:
“The revival of a familiar burlesque on 'Faust' at the —— Theatre last night was distinguished by a decidedly novel and original embodiment of Mephisto by Thomas Mogley, a trained and painstaking comedian. His performance created an abundance of merriment, and it was the manifest thought of the audience that a new type of burlesque comedian had been discovered.”
All of which was literally true. And the dramatic editor laughed over it later over his bottle of white label at the club.