collar and other decorations proper to a new playwright, sat in
the centre of the front row of the orchestra. Yesterday he had
taken a seat about nine rows back.

He bore no surface signs of the wear and tear of a witches'
night; riding his runaway play and fighting the enchantment that
was upon him. Elastic twenty-seven does not mark a bedless
session with violet arcs below its eyes;--what violet a witch
had used upon Stewart Canby this morning appeared as a dewey
boutonniere in the lapel of his new coat; he was that far gone.

Miss Ellsling and a youth of the company took their places near
the front of the stage and began the rehearsal of the second act
with a dialogue that led up to the entrance of the star with the
"ingenue," both of whom still remained out of the playwright's
range of vision.

As the moment for their appearance drew near, Canby became, to
his own rage, almost uncontrollably agitated. Miss Ellsling's
scene, which he should have followed carefully, meant nothing to
him but a ticking off of the seconds before he should behold
with his physical eyes the living presence of the fairy ghost
that had put a spell upon him. He was tremulous all over.

Miss Ellsling and her companion came to a full stop and stood
waiting. Thereupon Packer went to the rear of the stage, leaned
through an open doorway, and spoke deferentially:

"Mr. Potter? All ready, sir. All ready, Miss--ah--Malone?"