Next year they pursued a different plan, and reduced their expenditure in every department. This reduction was superintended by Grimaldi, and the very first salary he cut down was his own, from which he struck off at once two pounds per week. They tried pony-races too in the area attached to the theatre, and, so variable is theatrical property, cleared a sum equal to their losses of the preceding year, between Easter and Whitsuntide alone. The following season[84] was also a successful one, and at length he began to think he should gain something by the proprietorship. It was about this time, or rather before, that Grimaldi was subpoenaed as a witness in an action between two theatrical gentlemen, of whom Mr. Glossop was one, when his smart parrying of a remark from a counsel engaged in the case occasioned much laughter in court. On his name being called, and his appearing in the witness-box, there was some movement in the court, which was very crowded, the people being anxious to catch a sight of a witness whose name was so familiar. Sir James Scarlett,[85] who was to examine him, rose as he made his appearance, and, looking at him with great real or apparent interest, said, "Dear me! Pray, sir, are you the great Mr. Grimaldi, formerly of Covent Garden Theatre?" The witness felt greatly confused at this inquiry, especially as it seemed to excite to a still higher pitch the curiosity of the spectators. He reddened slightly, and replied, "I used to be a pantomime actor, sir, at Covent Garden Theatre." "Yes," said Sir James Scarlett, "I recollect you well. You are a very clever man, sir." He paused for a few seconds, and, looking up in his face, said, "And so you really are Grimaldi, are you?" This was more embarrassing than the other question, and Grimaldi feeling it so, fidgetted about in the box, and grew redder and redder. "Don't blush, Mr. Grimaldi, pray don't blush; there is not the least occasion for blushing," said Sir James Scarlett. "I don't blush, sir," rejoined the witness. "I assure you, you need not blush so." "I beg your pardon, sir, I really am not blushing," repeated the witness, who beginning to grow angry, repeated it with so red a face, that the spectators tittered aloud. "I assure you, Mr. Grimaldi," said Sir James Scarlett, smiling, "that you _are_ blushing violently." "I beg your pardon, sir," replied Grimaldi, "but you are really quite mistaken. The flush which you observe on my face is a _Scarlet_ one, I admit; but I assure you that it is nothing more than a reflection from your own." The people in the court shouted with laughter, and Sir James Scarlett joining in their mirth, proceeded without further remark with the business of the case. FOOTNOTES: [81] On Friday, December 26, 1823. [82] Son of the proprietor of the well-known "Boiled Beef House" in the Old Bailey.