"That's the excuse they all give, but it's no farther than ever it was and the theatres are as near as ever they were," she said sadly, the Scotch burr falling musically upon the ear. "It isn't that.... They're forgetting me now they're getting up in the world. It didn't use to be too far when they couldn't pay more than eight or ten dollars a week for their board ... and the little suppers Mamma had waiting for them after the theatre...." She sighed but there was no trace of bitterness. "It's what you must expect when you get old and worn out.... It's the way of the world and God was always harder on women than he is on men." There was no answer I could make; I could not have spoken had there been anything to say. I felt choked and on the verge of tears. It was all so pitiful. There was an air of desolation about the place. The warmth which prosperity radiates was no longer evident. Where formerly there had been leading players, even a star or two, now there were only the lower ranks, and but few of them. Nothing remained of the good old days save the rows and rows of photographs which lined the walls, all of them autographed and inscribed "With love, to Mamma Heward." Arm in arm we reviewed this galaxy of players. "There is ----," she said, stopping in front of a well-known actor. "And that's his first wife. She was a dear, good girl. I'm afraid Herbert didn't treat her as well as he should. Many's the time she has cried out her heart in Mamma's arms.... She's married again--no, not an actor--and she's got two boys, the littlest one the size of yours.... Now could you ever guess who that is? Yes, that's ---- when he was leading man with Modjeska. The women were crazy about him.... And he was a dear--such a kind-hearted man. I remember once how he kept the furnace going when our man got drunk and disappeared for three days. If only I had a picture of him shovelling in coal--his sleeves rolled up and spouting Macbeth at the top of his lungs.... Dear old Morry! He was his own worst enemy...." She sighed heavily over the actor's bad end. "And there! Do you recognize that? And isn't the boy the livin' image of his father?" I looked more closely at the photograph. Boy's resemblance to his father was even more clearly marked in some of Will's earlier pictures. "Do you remember the first time you came to me? You hadn't been married long. You had a dog, a bull terrier pup. Let me think, now, what was his name? Yes, Billy, that's it! And do you mind how ye locked him up in your bathroom when you went to the theatre and how he ate the matting off the floor while ye was gone?"