word to me save a farewell. No sooner was he gone than I started
for the telephone to call up Le Mire; but thought better of it
and with a shrug of the shoulders returned to the laboratory.

It was the following Monday that was to see the first appearance
of Le Mire at the Stuyvesant. I had not thought of going, but on
Monday afternoon Billy Du Mont telephoned me that he had an extra
ticket and would like to have me join him. I was really a little
curious to see Le Mire perform and accepted.

We dined at the club and arrived at the theater rather late. The
audience was brilliant; indeed, though I had been an ardent
first-nighter for a year or two in my callow youth, I think I
have never seen such a representation of fashion and genius in
America, except at the opera.

Billy and I sat in the orchestra--about the twelfth row--and half
the faces in sight were well known to me. Whether Le Mire could
dance or not, she most assuredly was, or had, a good press-agent.
We were soon to receive an exemplification of at least a portion
of the reputation that had preceded her.

Many were the angry adjectives heaped on the head of the dancer
on that memorable evening. Mrs. Frederick Marston, I remember,
called her an insolent hussy; but then Mrs. Frederick Marston was
never original. Others: rash, impudent, saucy, impertinent; in
each instance accompanied by threats.

Indeed, it is little wonder if those people of fashion and wealth
and position were indignant and sore. For they had dressed and