"I had succeeded before, oh yes, but this was a different matter. All girls have their gods--some have many of them. My gods were few, and on the highest pedestal of all, grave and gentle, stood the god of my professional idolatry--Edwin Booth. It was humiliating to be forced on any one as I should be forced upon Mr. Booth, since there was still none but my 'apple-cheeked' self to go on for the Queen, and though I dreaded complaint and disparaging remarks from him, I was honestly more unhappy over the annoyance this blemish on the cast would cause him. But it could not be helped, so I wiped my eyes, repeated my childish little old-time 'Now I lay me,' and went to sleep. "The dreaded Monday came, and at last--the call, 'Mr. Booth would like to see you for a few moments in his room.' "He was dressed for Hamlet when I entered. He looked up, smiled, and, waving his hand, said in Bandmann's very words: 'No, not you--not the _Player-Queen_--but GERTRUDE.' "My whole heart was in my voice as I gasped: 'I'm so sorry, sir, but I have to do Queen Gertrude. You see,' I rushed on, 'our heavy woman has a broken leg and can't act. But if you please,' I added, 'I had to do this part with Mr. Bandmann, too, and--and--I'll only worry you with my looks, sir, not about the words or business.' "He rested his dark, unspeakably melancholy eyes on my face, then he sighed and said: 'Well, it was the closet scene I wanted to speak to you about. When the ghost appears you are to be--' He stopped, a faint smile touched his lips, and he remarked: "'There's no denying it, my girl, I look a great deal more like your father than you look like my mother--but--' He went on with his directions, and, considerate gentlemen that he was, spoke no single unkind word to me, though my playing of that part must have been a great annoyance to him. "When the closet scene was over, the curtain down, I caught up my petticoats and made a rapid flight roomward. The applause was filling the theater. Mr. Booth, turning, called after me: 'You--er--Gertrude--er--_Queen!_ Oh, somebody call that child back here!' and somebody roared, 'Clara, Mr. Booth is calling you!' I turned, but stood still. He beckoned, then came and took my hand, saying, 'My dear, we must not keep them waiting too long,' and led me before the curtain with him. I very slightly bent my head to the audience, whom I felt were applauding Hamlet only, but turned and bowed myself to the ground to him whose courtesy had brought me there. "When we came off he smiled amusedly, tapped me on the shoulder, and said: 'My Gertrude, you are very young, but you know how to pay a pretty compliment--thank you, child!'