"Good business!" he cried. "Did you see that little run off the
stage she made when Miss Ellsling came on? And you saw what he
can do when he wants to!"
"He?" Canby echoed. "He?"
"Played for the scene instead of himself. Oh, he can do it! He's
an old hand--got too many tricks in the bag to let her get the
piece away from him--but he's found a girl that can play with
him at last, and he'll use every value she's got. He knows good
property when he sees it. She's got a pretty good box of tricks
herself; stock's the way to learn 'em, but it's apt to take the
bloom off. It hasn't taken off any of hers, the darlin'! What do
you think, Mr. Canby?"
To Canby, who hardly noticed that this dead old man had come to
life, the speech was jargon. The playwright was preoccupied with
the fact that Talbot Potter was still on the stage, would
continue there until the rather distant end of the act, and that
the "ingenue," after completing the little run at her exit, had
begun to study the manuscript of her part, and in that
absorption had disappeared through a door into the rear
passageway.
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