“For God’s sake, keep it up!” urged Dineen.

“For Christ’s sake, let me alone, all of you,—­I know what I’m doing,” this, as the elocution teacher tried to press home some advice....

* * * * *

During the second act I was as electric as during the first, but now I allowed myself to see over the foot-lights and recognise people I knew.  I even overheard one girl say to another, “why, Johnnie Gregory is handsome in that Van Dyke!”

“Yes, he has a fine profile ... he looks quite distinguished.”

* * * * *

Before the curtain for the third act, Jack Travers worked his way back through the props to my dressing room....

“Sh!  I’ve brought a nip of something real for you, Johnnie!”

“Bill already has given me some.  It’s enough!  I don’t want any more!—­wait till the last act, and then I’ll take it!

“I don’t want it now! Do you hear!” I almost screamed, as he mischievously insisted.

The bell rang for the third curtain....

The news had come for Iistral that his rich uncle in America had died and left him a fortune ... now his family would try and have him adjudged insane, in order to lay hands on the wealth for their own uses....

That third act went off well....

“But you skipped a few lines in that act, Mr. Gregory,” warned the directress, concerned.

“Oh, let me alone, will you!” I returned, enjoying the petulance of stardom to the full....

“Remember the fight-scene at the finish,” she persisted, “just pretend to strike with the shovel ... you might hurt someone!” anxiously.

“I am going to act the thing realistically, not as a matter of stagecraft.”

She tiptoed away.  And I had the satisfaction of hearing her instruct the boys who acted as guards, and who were to seize on me—­in my moment of physical exasperation—­

“Grab him before the cue, just a trifle before it!  I think Mr. Gregory is going to forget himself!”

* * * * *

I swung the shovel high in the air, making at all my relatives, crying out terms of reproach ... sobbing....

In the audience, everybody sat still with wonder.

The actors scattered from my brandished shovel, just as they would have done in real life ... the directress had schooled them to crowd about me so as to mask the action.

But the action needed no masking.  It was real.

The two guards were on me,—­boys who, in everyday life, were big football men on the freshman team....

I fought them, frenzied, back and forth over the stage, smashing down the pasteboard hedge, falling ... getting up again....

But, though the scenery went down, the audience did not laugh, but sat spellbound.

I was finally dragged away ... on the way to the asylum, half my costume torn from my body ... and I kept crying aloud ... for mercy ... for deliverance ... after the curtain had long gone down....