"In the first place," Potter said with sudden vehemence, "it
lacks Punch! Where's your Punch in this play, Mr. Canby? Where
is there any Punch whatever in the whole four acts? Surely,
after this rehearsal, you don't mean to claim that the first act
has one single ounce of Punch in it!"

"But you've twisted this act all round," the unhappy young man
protested. "The way you have it I can't tell what it's got to
it. I meant Roderick Hanscom to be a disagr--"

"Mr. Canby," said the star, rising impressively, "if we played
that act the way you wrote it, we'd last just about four minutes
of the opening night. You gave me absolutely nothing to do!
Other people talked at me and I had to stand there and be talked
at for twenty minutes straight, like a blithering ninny!"

"Well, as you have it, the other actors have to stand there like
ninnies," poor Canby retorted miserably, "while you talk at them
almost the whole time."

"My soul!" Potter struck the table with the palm of his hand.
"Do you think anybody's going to pay two dollars to watch me
listen to my company for three hours? No, my dear man, your
play's got to give me something to do! You'll have to rewrite
the second and third acts. I've done what I could for the
first, but, good God! Mr. Canby, I can't write your whole play
for you! You'll have to get some Punch into it or we'll never be
able to go on with it."