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Miss Barrymore and the Wits 99
and who won tonight’s fight? Yours for the higher education for women, Ethel Barrymore.”
And we talked about the book that once upon a time she did not write. When Ethel first went on the stage, in London, in New York, in Chicago and in San Francisco, she was forever meeting personages who said, “I held you on my knee when you were a little girl.”
“They kept on saying it,” she smiled, “till one night at a dinner I said that I was going to write and publish a book of elderly gentlemen and give it the telling title of ‘Knees I’ve Sat On.’ ”
She put Mrs. Patrick Campbell among the wits, and Emily Stevens, too — she wished Zoe Akins, author of her dear “Declassee,” had been there to tell me the latest Emilyisms. But, speaking of Mrs. Pat, I thought this one was quite perfect :
“She was playing with George Alexander in London, and Alexander took her aside and said,” laughed Ethel, “that she’d have to stop laughing at him on the stage.”
“ ‘I never laugh at you on the stage,’ Mrs. Pat protested ; ‘I always wait till I get home.’ ”
We elected Brother John to the Order. I had never told his sister what he said to me when we first met. It was during his first engagement, a small part with William Collier in “The Dictator.” And my friendly greeting to Ethel’s little brother had been: “What makes you look so much taller on the stage?” To which Jack had solemnly answered: “Collier.”
“It was as witty as yours on Sargent,” I told Ethel.
“He had just painted your portrait, and when I asked if it was a good likeness you hesitated and said