Such is the power of the primeval, and for the unique way in which it
has been treated between these covers, the father takes off his hat to
the son.

F. HOPKINSON SMITH.

_September_, 1909.




THE LADY OF BIG SHANTY




CHAPTER ONE


It was the luncheon hour, and The Players was crowded with its
members; not only actors, but men of every profession, from the tall,
robust architect to the quiet surgeon tucked away among the cushions
of the corner divan. In the hall--giving sound advice, perhaps, to a
newly fledged tragedian--sat some dear, gray-haired old gentleman in
white socks who puffed silently at a long cigar, while from out the
low-ceiled, black-oak dining room, resplendent in pewter and hazy with
tobacco smoke, came intermittent outbursts of laughter. It was the
hour when idlers and workers alike throw off the labours of the day
for a quiet chat with their fellows.