that whenever Potter talked at any length Tinker looked
thoughtful and distant, like a mechanic so accustomed to the
whirr and thunder of the machine-shop that he may indulge in
reveries there. After a moment or two the old fellow ceased to
follow the pendulum stride, and turned to the playwright.

"I'll tell you the two surest ways to make what you call the
public like a play, Mr. Canby," he said. "Nothing is sure, but
these are the nearest to it. Make 'em laugh. I mean, make 'em
laugh after they get home, or the next day in the office, any
time they get to thinking about it. The other way is to get two
actors for your lovers that the audience, young and old, can't
help falling in love with; a young actor that the females in the
audience think they'd like to marry, and a young actress that
the males all think they'd like to marry. It doesn't matter much
about the writing; just have something interfere between them
from eight-fifteen until along about twenty-five minutes after
ten. The two lovers don't necessarily have to know much about
acting, either, though of course it's better if they happen to.
The best stage-lover I ever knew, and the one that played in
the most successes, did happen to understand acting thor--"

"Who was that?" Potter interrupted fiercely. "Mounet-Sully?"

"No. I meant Dora Preston."

"Never heard of her!"

"No," said the old man. "You wouldn't. They don't put up
monuments to pretty actresses, nor write about them in school