"Yes, the snow!"
"What's the matter with it?"
"Did you ever see snow flakes four inches square? Who cut it up?"
"The boys. But they had only one scissors so they tore a good bit."
"It won't do—I tell you now it won't do. Have it cut fine and use some white paper. You have used too much newspaper—the snow looks black like a blizzard in Hell."
Paul left the stage.
"Sorry to trouble you—but once more."
Now the actress had secured a plaid shawl and drawing it about her repeated the line, "I think it is growing colder."
By this time the old actor was behind the director. "Excuse me," he said tapping the director's arm. "I've played before three emperors. . . . I am still good. Give me a part. . . . I will show you how I can blow the terror of my heart—"
"Sit down! Don't bother me now." Then turning to the stage. "That's better. That's much better. Now let's have it over again. . . . Are you ready, Paul? . . . All right, go ahead!”
Once more she shuddered in the shell of her shawl before saying, "I think it is growing colder."
But the old actor stood in the aisle and now declaimed to himself. "A man may fish with a worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that . . ."
"What do you say about fish?" shouted the director turning about sharply.
"I—I said that I played before three emperors, and I . . ."
"Don't bother me now. Sit down! . . . Paul! Where is Paul? . . . What's the matter with the snow? No! No! No! Don't cut it up now; let's have it as it is. . . . Now once more!"
Beads of perspiration came to the forehead of the actress and ran in wavy lines down her painted face. Again she drew the shawl about her and spoke her line. "I think it is growing colder." At the side of the stage near the door of the set waited two middle-aged men, dressed and painted to represent boys, ready to burst into the room and shout, "Mama, it's snowing." But they had to wait long for their cue.
"Now that's better"—spoke the director. "But I was just think-
