seized him; Pygmalion shook as Galatea began to breathe, and to
young Canby it was no less a miracle that his black marks and
white paper should thus come to life.

"Miss Ellsling!" called the stage-manager. "Miss Ellsling,
you're on. You're on artificial stone bench in garden, down
right. Mr. Nippert, you're on. You're over yonder, right cen---"

"Not at all!" interrupted Talbot Potter, who had taken his seat
at a small table near the trough where the footlights lay
asleep, like the row of night-watchmen they were. "Not at all!"
he repeated sharply, thumping the table with his knuckles.
"That's all out. It's cut. Nippert doesn't come on in this
scene at all. You've got the original script there, Packer.
Good heavens! Packer, can't you ever get anything right? Didn't
I distinctly tell you-- Here! Come here! Not garden set, at
all. Play it interior, same as act second. Look, Packer, look!
Miss Ellsling down left, in chair by escritoire. In heaven's
name, can you read, Packer?"

"Yessir, yessir. I see, sir, I see!" said Packer with piteous
eagerness, taking the manuscript the star handed him. "Now,
then, Miss Ellsling, if you please--"

"I will have my tea indoors," Miss Ellsling began promptly,
striking an imaginary bell. "I will have my tea indoors,
to-day, I think, Pritchard. It is cooler indoors, to-day,
I think, on the whole, and so it will be pleasanter to have
my tea indoors to-day. Strike bell again. Do you hear, Pritchard?"