X


"Your overcoat, Mr. Potter!" called that faithful servitor as
Potter was going out through the theatre with old Tinker and
Canby. "You've forgotten your overcoat, sir."

"I don't want it."

"Yes sir; but it's a little raw to-day." He leaped down into the
orchestra from the high stage, striking his knee upon a chair
with violence, but, pausing not an instant for that, came
running up the aisle carrying the overcoat. "You might want it
after you get out into the air, Mr. Potter. I'm sure Mr. Tinker
or Mr. Canby won't mind taking charge of it for you until you
feel like putting it on."

"Lord! Don't make such a fuss, Packer. Put it on me--put it on
me!"

He extended his arms behind him, and was enveloped solicitously
and reverently in the garment.

"Confound him!" said Potter good-humouredly, as they came out
into the lobby. "It is chilly; he's usually right, the idiot!"

Turning from Broadway, at the corner, they went over to Fifth
Avenue, where Potter's unconsciousness of the people who
recognized and stared at him was, as usual, one of the finest
things he did, either upon the stage or "off." Superb