But he made infinitely more than the prophesied one thousand, five hundred dollars a year. For he speedily became an actor manager. His business training and his notorious stinginess were splendid assets. Money flowed in, beyond his wildest dreams of avarice. And he held on to it all. Peg was inordinately proud of his achievements. So was Garrick. Peg loved him to distraction. He graciously consented to be loved. Indeed, it is probable that he cared for Peg as much as he could care for anybody except David Garrick. A swarm of women fell in love with him when he made his stage success. In spite of this, he still loved Peg. Even if not exclusively. Then Peg and Garrick appeared for the time as co-stars. And, with him, she returned to the scene of her early struggles at Dublin. At the Smock Alley Theater there, the two acted in repertoire. The pair were an enormous hit. So much so that they were forced, by popular clamor, to play straight through the summer. It was one of the hottest summers on record, but great crowds jammed the theater at each performance. An epidemic swept Dublin. A good many of the playgoers caught the infection at the playhouse and died; which caused the epidemic to receive the sinister nickname, "the Garrick fever." Peg was no less popular than was her colleague. Together they toured Ireland, then came back to London, as openly avowed lovers. They were engaged to be married; but the marriage was from time to time postponed. Always at Garrick's suggestion. Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, a suitor for Peg's favor at this time, was the author--among half a bookful of odes, sonnets, and so forth, to her charms--of "Lovely Peggy," a popular song "hit" of the day, a stanza of which runs: Once more I'll tune the vocal shell, To hills and dales my passion tell, A flame which time can never quell, That burns for lovely Peggy. Ye greater bards the lyre should hit, To say what subject is more fit, Than to record the sparkling wit And bloom of lovely Peggy. But Sir Charles wooed her in vain. She had thoughts for no one else but Garrick. One day, reproached by the poet with her greater regard for his rival, and not wishing to cause needless pain to the loser, Peg sought to evade the charge by saying that she had not seen Garrick for an age. "Nay," contradicted the luckless Sir Charles, "I know you saw him only yesterday." "Well," she retorted, "and is not that an age?" She and Garrick had a singular rule for maintaining their antemarital establishment. It was arranged--by Garrick--that each should bear the monthly expenses alternately. When it was Peg's turn, it was noticeable that much better food was provided and that many more dinner guests were invited to the house than during the alternate months when Garrick was running the place.