"I shall never forget a remark of the late Lawrence Barrett to me after a performance of Richelieu in which he had fairly outdone himself.

'Montague, my lad,' said he 'we may work for the money, but we play for the applause.' But now our finest bits must go in silence, or perhaps be interrupted by a so-called director who arrogates to himself the right to instill into us the rudiments of a profession in which we had grounded ourselves ere yet he was out of leading strings.

Too often, naturally, the results are discouraging." The unabashed girl was meantime having sprightly talk with the casting director, whom she had hailed through the window as Countess.

Merton, somewhat startled, wondered if the little woman could indeed be of the nobility.
"Hello, Countess! Say, listen, can you give the camera a little peek at me to-day, or at pa or ma?
'No, nothing to-day, dear.'" She had imitated the little woman's voice in her accustomed reply.

"Well, I didn't think there would be.