"Now, here, old chap, don't talk about schools. They are only intended for society women, you know. The main trouble is, you didn't begin early enough. You were a dramatic critic and then thought you'd study for the stage." "But my work as an actor is popular with the people," I protested. "Yes, some people, old chap, but you mustn't pay much attention to that. In his own generation a man is not really great until the critics have pronounced him so. The critics can gradually bring the people around to an appreciation of a true artist, but popularity doesn't compel the critics to deliver a favorable verdict. It isn't with acting as it is with writing, you know. An actor is of the present, and a writer may be of the future. Wouldn't you rather have the good opinion of a few high-class men and women than the enthusiastic commendation of the rabble?" "Yes, wouldn't you?" "No, I wouldn't, old chap, for I am after what money there is in it. I don't expect to be an artist, you know--I don't care to be--too much hard work; too much restraint in it." "Culpepper"--I looked at him earnestly, for I was moved by a spirit of truth--"I would rather stand high as the exponent of any art that I might choose than to have all the money you could heap about me." "Ah, that's where you are weak, old chap; but it's well enough that there are such men--they give the other fellows a chance. And now, pardon me, Maurice, but you'll never be a great actor." He said this with such kindliness that I did not feel even the quiver of a resentment. In fact, while left to commune with myself, and under that strange sharpening of self-judgment which illness or a nervous shock may sometimes bring about, I had seen my incurable faults and had consigned myself to mediocrity. "Have I hurt you, old chap?" "No," said I, philosopher enough to laugh, "you simply agree with my own estimate." "That so? Good. But I tell you what I believe you can do, and do it down to the ground--write for the stage. You've got a good sense of humor and a first-rate conception of character; you are poetic and can soon acquire a knowledge of construction. Want me to shake on it? Of course." We shook hands, not that he had tickled my vanity, but because he had sent back the echo which my secret mind had shouted. "But, Culpepper, there is always a trouble in the way. I can't work while jerked about the country--I've tried it--and just at present I can't afford to stay long enough in one place." "That's all right, set your mind on it and the opportunity will come." "By the way, I have a treat in store. Hope you'll be here to share it with me. I am promised a reading by Mrs. Estell, when I am able to be dragged into another room."