There is danger in drifting at any time, so it may be well to warn young
actresses against drifting into a too strong friendship. No matter how
handsome or clever a man may be, if he approaches a modest girl with
coarse familiarity, with brutalities on his lips, she is shocked,
repelled, certainly not tempted. But let us say that the young actress
feels rather strange and uncomfortable in her surroundings, that she is
only on a smiling "good morning and good evening" footing with the
company, and she has been promised a certain small part, and then at the
last moment the part is given to some one else. The disappointment is
cruel, and the suspicion that people are laughing in their sleeves over
the slight put upon her makes her feel sick and faint with shame, and
just then a friendly hand places a chair for her and a kind voice says:
"I'm awfully sorry you missed that chance, for I'm quite sure you would
do the part far and away better than that milliner's block will. But
don't distress yourself, your chance will come, and you will know how to
make the most of it--I am sure."

And all the time the plain, perhaps the elderly man is speaking, he is
shielding her from the eyes of the other people, and from her very soul
she is grateful to him, and she holds up her head and smiles bravely.

Not long after, perhaps, she does get a chance, and with joyous eyes she
watches for the coming of the man who comforted her, that she may tell
him of her good luck. And his pleasure is plain, and he assures her that
she will succeed. And he, an experienced actor, waits in the entrance to
see her play her small part, and shakes her hand and congratulates her
when she comes off, and even tells her what to do next time at such a
point, and her heart warms within her and is filled with gratitude for
this "sympathetic friend," who helps her and has faith in her future.