rushing into the house like a whirlwind and filling the place
with the sunshine and happiness that seemed to fairly exude
from her beautiful magnetic presence. Augustin Daly usually
came with at least three of the stars of his company which I
have already mentioned, but even the beautiful Rehan and the
nice old Mrs. Gilbert seemed thoroughly awed in the presence
of "the Guv'nor." He was a most crusty, dictatorial party, as
I remember him with his searching eyes and raven locks, always
dressed in black and always failing to find virtue in any
actor or actress not a member of his own company. I remember
one particularly acrid discussion between him and my father in
regard to Julia Marlowe, who was then making her first bow to
the public. Daly contended that in a few years the lady would
be absolutely unheard of and backed his opinion by betting a
dinner for those present with my father that his judgment would
prove correct. However, he was very kind to Richard and myself
and frequently allowed us to play about behind the scenes, which
was a privilege I imagine he granted to very few of his
friends' children. One night, long after this, when Richard
was a reporter in New York, he and Miss Rehan were burlesquing
a scene from a play on which the last curtain had just fallen.
It was on the stage of Daly's theatre at Thirtieth Street and
Broadway, and from his velvet box at the prompt-entrance Daly
stood gloomily watching their fooling. When they had finished
the mock scene Richard went over to Daly and said, "How bad do
you think I am as an actor, Mr. Daly?" and greatly to my
brother's delight the greatest manager of them all of those
days grumbled back at him: "You're so bad, Richard, that I'll
give you a hundred dollars a week, and you can sign the
contract whenever you're ready." Although that was much more