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Arnold Daly's Darling Daughter 13
that I accepted it as something I’d always known. . .
just as I accepted and was prepared for the acting of Mary Garden. But Father did seem to make a great many faces. I hope that isn’t what you mean when you say the Dalys talk with their faces, else I shall at once begin to curb my galloping features. . . . All
words lead to oneself in an interview, don’t they? I remind myself of Father. He sent me the other day proof sheets of a review he is writing for The Bookman of Nathan’s latest volume of dramatic criticisms. Immediately I read them I telegraphed him: ‘Found well written your review of Nathan’s book, only don’t you think a little more of the subject and a little less of you would be more to the point?’ . . . If I seem to scatter all over the place, you
must make allowances for my excitement at my first interview . . . although once, when I was four, I
was quoted in the press. Somebody said, ‘You’re a blonde, Blythe, aren’t you?’ To which I answered, ‘No, I’m a Catholic.’ ... So you’re an old friend of Father’s, Mr. Stevens. Well, I’m glad you’re not a lovely lady.”
‘‘So’m I, Miss Daly; but why are you glad?”
‘‘Oh, all my life I’ve met lovely ladies who’ve been dear old friends of Father’s. And they’ve always said, with ecstasy: ‘I knew your father! But you’re not
like him. He’s wonderful!’ It’s a favorite phrase of mother’s and mine, ‘I knew your father.’ The lovely ladies who’ve been dear friends of Father’s are all alike — all but one — all but Mary Garden. I met her when she was rehearsing ‘Aphrodite’ here at the Auditorium. She didn’t roll her eyes and sigh that she’d known my father. Mary Garden said:
“‘You are Mr. Daly’s daughter? How is poppa?’
“And I loved her ‘How is poppa?’ I took her into