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Actorviews
“Mildred,” I said, “what would you have said if they’d arrested you on the opening night and taken you before a judge and charged you with appearing before three thousand persons as naked as when you were born?”
“ ‘Jedge,’ I’d ’a’ said,” said Mildred, with her quaint small-town accent and her rube telescoping of the words, “ ’t ain’t so ! — I gotta piece of court-plaster on !’ And what I said would ’a’ been true any night — or matinee.” (Set the double “e” in italics, Mr. Printer, and it will sound just as Mildred said it.)
“I’ll b’ glad when ’t gets real Winter ’gain,” Mildred was telling Georgiana and me. “I git homesick for home in Summertime.” Her suit bespoke a Fifth avenue tailor, and her velour hat may have seen Paris recently, and her pretty little face (with its slim lips and perfect nose and eager blue eyes, all lit by reddish, curlish hair) was the face of the city dweller. But her short-cut speech was purest rube, and I wouldn’t citify it for a load of clover.
“Where’s ‘home’?” said I.
“West Winfield, N. Y.,” Mildred said, pronouncing the initials. “There’s a store ’n’ coupla churches ’n’ popcorn stand ’n’ saloon — but it’s ice-cream parlor now — ’n’ our next-door neighbor, th’ widowwoman, Mis’ Nichols.
“Y’oughta hear her when I went home with the Aphrodite poster. She looks at it and tightens her mouth ’n’ she says:
“ ‘Guess y’u didn’t have many clothes on when thet was took!’
“ ‘None ’t all, Mis’ Nichols.’
“ ‘H’m ! How d’y’u think I’d look standing up there like thet ?’ ”