Mrs. Tustin whispered to her husband with a great air of bravado and derision, but looked relieved when Miss Gorham turned and took a step or two away from her. The elocutionist not only acted the part of Lady Constance; when necessary, she would step to the opposite side of the room, remark "King Philip" or "Pandulph," and drop her voice a couple of octaves for the speech; then back again to the position of Constance, and shrilling loudly,—
"I am not mad," she cried; "this hair I tear is mine," and she drew her unbound locks in front of her face and pulled them hand over hand. When she had finished Constance's last despairing cry, she staggered back against the wall and leaned there, panting as if exhausted, during the applause.
"Ain't that great!" exclaimed Hugh Farrell. "But say, Lally, you're wrong in one thing; I'll bet that old girl was red-headed. Where there's that much fire, there's got to be smoke; eh, Let?"
Miss Gorham came up to Floyd, coiling her hair on her head as she approached.
"What a splendid scene that is! Thank you very much," Floyd said cautiously. "It must use you up to do it."
"Yes, I throw myself into it so," she explained. "When once I begin I lose myself entirely; I actually become the person of the play. I just can't help it. I suppose you noticed that?"
"I suppose," Floyd said, evading an answer, "that makes it all the more exhausting."
"Oh my, yes! But that's what it is to have a temperament,—as of course you know, Mr. Halket."
"No, I'm afraid I have n't it."
"Oh, I'm sure you must have. I can always tell by a person's eyes. Your eyes show temperament."
"I guess it's time, then, for me to be taking to glasses, or they'll get me into trouble," he said flippantly.
