Come on, Ned; we 'll run over to the Chicago Club and have a bite, then a smoke and chat about Alma Mater; after that, the Grand." * * * * * * The great opera house was densely crowded from pit to dome, the boxes and parquet brilliant with color and fashion, the numberless tiers of seats rising above, black with packed, expectant humanity.

Before eight o'clock late comers had been confronted in the lobby with the "Standing Room Only" announcement; and now even this had been turned to the wall, while the man at the ticket window shook his head to disappointed inquirers.

And that was an audience to be remembered, to be held notable, to be editorially commented upon by the press the next morning.
There was reason for it.

A child of Chicago, daughter in a family of standing and exclusiveness, after winning notable successes in San Francisco, in London, in New York, had, at last, consented to return home, and appear for the first time in her native city.

Endowed with rare gifts of interpretation, earnest, sincere, forceful, loving her work fervently, possessing an attractive presence and natural capacity for study, she had long since won the appreciation of the critics and the warm admiration of those who care for the highest in dramatic art.
The reward was assured.