A scrappy rehearsal for the benefit of Grace Danver and the two or three other ladies who were affected by the necessary rearrangement, went on until the last possible moment, then Mr. Peel presented himself before the drop and made a little speech. The gallery was full of mill-hands; in the pit was a sprinkling of people; the circles and boxes presented half-a-dozen occupants. “Sudden domestic calamity … enforced absence of the lady who played … efficient substitution … deep regret, but confidence in the friendly feeling of audience on this last evening.”
They growled, but in the end applauded the actor-manager, who had succeeded in delicately hinting that, after all, the great attraction was still present in his own person. The play went very much as usual, but those behind the scenes were not allowed to forget that Mr. Peel was in a furious temper; the ladies noticed with satisfaction that more than once he glared ominously at Miss Danver, who naturally could not aid him to make his “points” as Miss Walcott had accustomed
