“_The Star of the Seven Seas_ is to be withdrawn,” she said at last, breaking in on his meditation. “Only two weeks’ run—dead failure! Cissie thinks New York audiences are exceedingly provincial. She is going back to dear old Lunnon as soon as she can get there. Maybe I shall be able to help her later.”
As the car stopped before a third-rate hotel in the Forties, Brainard inquired:
“Yes, Cissie is visiting me now,” the actress replied.
“They do that—sure—and for the better sometimes!” the young actress averred with a contented smile.
Latterly the critics had completely ignored the existence of the People’s Theater. Its announcements aroused no more public interest than the program of an ethical culture society. Brainard, who had at last learned the real importance of publicity, feared lest this same contemptuous indifference on the part of the press might bury his young secretary’s play in hasty and undeserved oblivion.
But as he sank into his seat on the following Monday night he was surprised and relieved at the size and the character of the audience. All the leading critics of the metropolitan press were there, also many of “those who know,” and whose verdict is useful indirectly. There were some theatrical people, and a few fashionable folk from Mrs. Donnie Pearmain’s world. The rest were of the ordinary, semi-intelligent theater-going sort.
It was an ideal house before which to try out the new piece. If the play had anything enduring in it, there were those present who could recognize the fact. Ned Farson had many personal friends in the city—college mates at various clubs, young literary aspirants, dramatists, newspaper and professional men. Among these, evidently, the word had been passed around that Ned’s play was to be produced—and that was enough. Louisiana had also worked Cissie, and Cissie Pyce had reached other professional circles.
“And now for the play,” Brainard sighed, dropping his glasses after this preliminary reconnaissance, “and for our one actress!”
At last, in the hush of a well-trained, expectant audience, the heavy curtains drew apart noiselessly, revealing the first scene—a rough shack in a mining camp, with a splendid background of mountains and desert.