able to pretend sometimes that they are thinking of other matters besides the play which they have had accepted.
Perhaps the dramatist has fondly imagined that even before he has finished his play, a man from the theatre will be standing behind his chair, breathlessly beseeching him to hurry that last act along, and declaring that the first night is on the morrow, and that he dare not return to the theatre without the last act, etc., etc. Of course, in real life this does not happen. If a play has been accepted, it must lie about in the theatre for a certain period so that it may have time to mature, and become, as it were, saturated with theatrical atmosphere. (Another reason why it must lie about in the theatre for some time, is that it may be announced as an “eagerly awaited novelty.”) Some authors are foolish enough to attempt to interfere with this ripening process by personal intervention, which, fortunately, has no effect whatever. Things must be left to take their own natural course. When the play
B
