She had, of course, heard of the troubles at the playhouse, and she told him that nothing would induce her ever to speak to Colman, though she said that she and Little Comedy, when they had first heard of the intention of the manager to withdraw the piece, had resolved to go together to the theatre and demand its immediate production on the finest scale possible. “There's still great need for some one who will be able to influence Colman in that respect,” said Goldsmith. “Only to-day, when I ventured to talk of a fresh scene being painted, He told me that it was not his intention to proceed to such expense for a piece that would not be played for longer than a small portion of one evening.” “The monster!” cried the girl. “I should like to talk to him as I feel about this. What, is he mad enough to expect that playgoers will tolerate his wretched old scenery in a new comedy? Oh, clearly he needs some one to be near him who will speak plainly to him and tell him how contemptible he is. Your friend Dr. Johnson should go to him. The occasion is one that demands the powers of a man who has a whole dictionary at his back--yes, Dr. Johnson should go to him and threaten that if he does not behave handsomely he will, in his next edition of the Dictionary, define a scoundrel as a playhouse manager who keeps an author in suspense for months, and then produces his comedy so ungenerously as to make its failure a certainty. But, no, your play will be the greater success on account of its having to overcome all the obstacles which Mr. Colman has placed in its way.” “I know, dear child, that if it depended on your good will it would be the greatest success of the century,” said he. “And so it will be--oh, it must be! Little Comedy and I will--oh, we shall insist on the playgoers liking it! We will sit in front of a box and lead all the applause, and we will, besides, keep stern eyes fixed upon any one who may have the bad taste to decline to follow us.” “You are kindness itself, my dear; and meanwhile, if you would come to the remaining rehearsals, and spend all your spare time thinking out a suitable name for the play you would be conferring an additional favour upon an ill-treated author.” “I will do both, and it will be strange if I do not succeed in at least one of the two enterprises--the first being the changing of the mistakes of a manager into the success of a night, and the second the changing of the 'Mistakes of a Night' into the success of a manager--ay, and of an author as well.” “Admirably spoke!” cried the author. “I have a mind to let the name 'The Mistakes of a Night' stand, you have made such a pretty play upon it.”