"I made a mental note of the thing, and the next time I saw the ladies halt Gillette in the wings I made a bolt for him and blurted out: 'Oh, Mr. Gillette, I want to see you about something very particularly.' "'Well, what is it?' he demanded when I had drawn him off to one side. He appeared to have forgotten all about his request of the stage manager, and I was up against it for a second. What should I tell him? Suddenly I had an inspiration. "'Mr. Gillette,' I said very soberly, 'don't you think I am getting too little money?' "'Well, I don't know,' he replied, when he recovered his breath. "But the next pay-day I received a raise of four dollars. The Turning of the Long Lane. "The season approached its end, and then came the announcement that the whole company was to go to London. I went about on air for a while, just before the keenest disappointment of my life. One night I was told that it had been discovered that there was one too many in the party, and I was _it_. I was to be left behind. "Well, of course I couldn't help myself any by kicking. I just had to grin and bear it, and hustle for another job. But this was mighty hard to find at that time of the year. I hunted the papers for ads of the summer snaps. Finally I landed on one from Louisville, which stated that the Cummings stock company wanted a juvenile man. I sat down and wrote to them at once, enclosing my picture and putting my salary at twenty-five dollars per week. And I had an answer telling me to come on. "You ought to have seen that manager's face when he saw me! But he let me go on. I couldn't be discharged, because they weren't making enough to pay salaries. We finally went to Washington, by some hook or crook, where we didn't do any better. I was only getting my board and lodging, but after we shifted to Rochester we struck it big, and the manager nearly paralyzed me one day by paying me eight weeks' salary in advance. He also put on my first play--a one-act affair, 'A Night in Havana.' Stranded in Chicago. "From the Cummings stock company I went with Sothern in 'The King's Musketeer.' I didn't care for the company, and began writing more plays. I got a man named Isham interested in my 'Rough Rider Romance,' and left the company to go to Chicago, where it was to be put on. I had just five dollars in my pocket when I arrived, to be greeted by the telegram: 'Isham committed to insane asylum.' "There I was, stranded in the Windy City, with a fiver. I went to my friend, Edwin Arden. "'What shall I do, Ed?' I said. "'I'll lend you twenty-five to get back to New York on,' he replied.