The old gentleman was always very kind to me and had the oddest pet name for me I ever heard. He used to hail me with: "Where's my crummie girl? Well, Crummy, how are you?"
In answer to my amazed look, he explained one day that it was a Yorkshire term, and meant "plump or round faced." The only time he ever cursed me was when he gave me the cue in the wrong place, as he openly admitted, and I went on too soon in consequence. Aside, he swore so the air seemed blue--my legs shook under me. I did not know whether to speak or not. He rose, and putting his arm about me, he led me off the stage (I was playing his daughter), and as we crossed the stage, this is what he said--the words in parentheses being asides to me, the other words being aloud for the audience:
"(What in h--ll!) My little one! (you double d----n fool!) My bird, what brings you here? (Yes, what the blankety, blankety, blanknation does bring you here, crummie girl?) Get back to your nest, dearie! (and stay there, d----n you!)" as he gently pushed me off the stage. Next day when the prompter showed him his error he admitted it at once.
He knew much sorrow and trouble, and before that last long streak of good fortune came to him, in New York, in "Hazel Kirke," he knew a time of bitter poverty. Eliza had died--a sweet and noble woman--and the loss was terrible to him. I was just winning success in the East when I was dumfounded one day at seeing Mr. Couldock standing, bowed and broken, before me, asking me for help.
A star--dear God! could such things happen to a star? I was so hurt for him, for his broken pride. When I could speak, I simply told him my salary, and that two (my mother and myself) were trying to live on it. "Oh!" he cried, "crummie girl, why don't you demand your rights; your name is on everyone's lips, yet you are hungry! Shall I speak for you?"
Poor old gentleman, I could not let him go empty away. I took one-half of my rent-money and handed it to him. I dared not ask my landlady to favor me further than that. His face lighted up radiantly--it might have been hundreds from his look. "Dearie!" he said, "I'll pay this back to the penny. You can ill spare it, I see that, crummie girl, but, oh, my lass, it's worse to see another hungry than it is to hunger yourself. I'll pay it back!" His eyes filled, he paused long, then he said, pathetically: "Some time, crummie girl, some time!"
