And then Mr. Jones began. He told Thyrsis what he meant to do with this play. Miss Lewis was one of the country’s future “stars”, and he was willing to back her without stint. He had permitted her to make her own choice of a role, and she should have her way in everything. There were famous playwrights bidding for a chance to write for her; but she had seen fit to choose “The Genius”. “Personally,” said Mr. Jones, “I don’t believe in the play. I would never think of producing it--it’s not the sort of thing anybody is interested in. But Miss Lewis likes it; she’s been reading Ibsen, and she wants to do a ‘drama of ideas’, and all that sort of thing, you know. And that’s all right--she’s the sort to make a success of whatever she does. But you must do your share, and give her a part she can make something out of--some chance to show her charm. Otherwise, of course, the thing’s impossible.” Mr. Jones paused. “I’m very sorry”--began Thyrsis, weakly. “What’s your idea in refusing?” interrupted the other. Thyrsis tried to explain--that he had written the play to set forth a certain thesis, and that he was asked to make changes that directly contradicted this thesis. “Have you ever had a play produced?” demanded the manager abruptly. “No,” said Thyrsis. “Have you written any other plays?” “No.” “Your first trial! Well, don’t you think it a good deal to expect that your play should be perfect?” “I don’t think”--began Thyrsis. “Can’t you see,” persisted the other, “that people who have been in this business all their lives, and have watched thousands of plays succeed and fail, might be able to give you some points on the matter?”--And then Mr. Jones went on to set forth to Thyrsis the laws of the theatrical game--a game in which there was the keenest competition, and in which the “ante” was enormously high. To produce “The Genius” would cost ten thousand dollars at the least; and were those who staked this to have no say whatever in the shaping of the play? Manifestly this was absurd; and as the manager pressed home the argument, Thyrsis felt as if he wanted to get up and run! When Mr. Jones talked to you, he looked you squarely in the eye, and you had a feeling of presumption, even of guilt, in standing out against him. Thyrsis shrunk in terror from that type of personality--he would let it have anything in the world it wanted, so only it would not clash with him. But never before had it demanded one of the children of his dreams! Mr. Jones went on to tell how many things he would do for the play. It would go into rehearsal at once, and would be seen on Broadway by the first of February. They would pay him four, six and eight per cent., and his profits could not be less than three hundred dollars a week. With Ethelynda Lewis in the leading role the play might well run until June--and there would be the road profits the next season, in addition.