CHAPTER IX.
MY FATHER HAS HIS IDEAS ON WHAT'S CALLED REALISM.
The last rumble of applause had died away at the Parthenon Theater, but the audience were leaving very slowly; they wished to linger as long as possible within the atmosphere of the building; though, like the atmosphere of many sacred places, that of the Parthenon was, just at that time, a trifle unsavory.

The first performance of the drama of "Cagliostro" had just taken place, and, as the first nights at the Parthenon are invariably regarded as the most exclusive functions of the year, the stalls and boxes had been crowded.

And the distinction which in Mayfair and Belgravia attaches to those who have been in the boxes and stalls on Parthenon first night is not greater than that which, in Bloomsbury and Camden Town, accrues to those who have occupied places--not necessarily seats--in the other parts of the house.

It is understood, too, that the good will of Bloomsbury and Camden Town is much more valuable to a play than the best wishes of Mayfair and Belgravia.
The gracious manager had made his customary speech of thanks,--for everything produced at the Parthenon was a success,--and while the general audience were moving away very reluctantly, some distinguished men and women followed the guidance of a strong Irish brogue as a flock follows a bell-wether, through a door that led to the stage.

Here the great actor and the ever-charming lady who divided with him the affections of West as well as East, received their guests' congratulations in such a way as made the guests feel that the success was wholly due to their good will.
Mrs.Linton, who was a personage in society,--her husband had found a gold mine (with the assistance of Herbert Courtland) and she had herself written a book of travels which did not sell,--had brought Phyllis with her party to the theater, and they had gone on the stage with the other notabilities, at the conclusion of the performance.