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Actorvicws
answered. “I suppose one progresses or else is called an old-timer. The actor who can’t keep pace with events and permutations becomes an old-timer, poor devil !”
“And I wish you’d tell me,” I said, “what’s the matter with so many of the young-timers of our stage. Why haven’t we some young John Drews coming up?” “Come! Come!” he scoffed the question.
“I mean this. We can get a lot of young women to play ladies without making a profound character study of the job. Why can’t we get more of the same kind of young men for the stage?”
“Well,” said John Drew, measuredly, “you see, a lot of young men who might make good actors prefer to go down to the Equitable Life and clean out ink wells. They know they’ll only have to do that for a year, and then, possibly, with a rich father, be on the way to make a fortune. And fortunes aren’t made on the stage,” added one of our best bestowed histrions, looking up through his heavy glasses to encounter the entering presence of a recently dashed chambermaid. “Is that you, Margaret?” he asked with kindness. “No, sir; it’s Grace.” And Mr. Drew gave some friendly order to Grace, who was ample, who was middle-aged, who was as respectable looking as the First National Bank.
“You’ll suspect nothing between me and Grace, I hope,” said Mr. Drew when she departed. “And I hope I shan’t drink myself into indiscreet utterances.”
“I’ll protect you. And you didn’t,” I admitted, “chuck her under the chin.”
“Eighteenth century!” said Mr. Drew, and wondered if anybody ever did chuck anybody under the