would be no cabling to Rostand, a thing he had naively feared,
for a moment, as imminent.

Potter halted, bursting into speech less monosyllabic but no
less vehement: "Mr. Tinker, did you ever see Mounet-Sully?"

"No."

"Did you, Mr. Canby?"

"No."

"Mewnay-Sooyay!" Potter mimicked the pronunciation of his
adviser. "'Mewnay-Sooyay! Of coss I don't say YOU could ever be
another Mewnay-Sooyay!' Ass! I'll tell you what Mounet-Sully's
'technique' amounts to, Mr. Tinker. It's yell! Just yell, yell,
yell! Does he think I can't yell! Why, Packer could open his
mouth like a hippopotamus and yell through a part! Ass!"

"Was that young man a-a critic?" Canby asked.

"No!" shouted Potter. "There aren't any!"

"He writes about theatrical matters," said Carson Tinker.
"Talky-talk writing: 'the drama'--'temperament'--'people of
cultivation'--quotes Latin or Italian or something. 'Technique'
is his star word; he plays 'technique' for a hand every other
line. Doesn't do any harm; in fact, I think he does us a good
deal of good. Lots of people read that talky-talk writing
nowadays. Not in New York, but in road-towns, where they have