He had suffered for his name, which I believed to be an assumed one.  Poor young man, I offer an apology to his memory.

One scamp wrote so brazenly, so persistently, demanding answers to be sent to a certain prominent club, that I one day laid the letters before Mr. Daly, and he advertised in the theatre programme that “if Mr. B.M.B., of such a club, would call at the box office, he would receive not the answer he expected, but the one he deserved,” and Mr. Daly was highly delighted when he heard that B.M.B., who was a “masher” par excellence, had been literally chaffed out of the club rooms.

Those creatures that, like poisonous toadstools, spring up at street corners to the torment of women, should be taken in hand by the police, since they encumber the streets and are a menace and a mortification to female citizens.  Let some brazen woman take the place of one of these street “mashers,” and proceed to ogle passers-by, and see how quickly the police would gather her in.

But so far as the stage “masher” is concerned, dear and anxious mamma, auntie, or sister, don’t worry about the safety of your actress to be.  The “masher” is an impertinence, a nuisance; but never, dear madam, never a danger.

CHAPTER XV

SOCIAL CONDITIONS BEHIND THE SCENES_

“What social conditions exist behind the scenes?”

This fourth question is one that Charles Dickens would have called an “agriwator,” and as it is repeated every now and again, I ask myself where is the curiosity about the theatre, its people, and its life to end?  The question is, What social conditions exist behind the scenes?  Now to be quite frank, the first few times this query appeared, I was distinctly aggravated.  I said to myself, do these ladies and gentlemen—­yes, three males are in this inquiring group—­do they think we are a people so apart from all others that we require a separate and distinctly different social code; that we know nothing of the law governing the size, style, and use of the visiting card; that congratulations, condolences, are unknown rites; that invitations, acceptances, and regrets are ancient Hebrew to us, and calls, teas, dinners, and dances are exalted functions far above our comprehension?  And then I read the question again, and saw I was making a ninny of myself—­an easy thing to do with the thermometer at ninety-nine in the shade.  That it said “behind the scenes,” and with a laugh I recalled the little child who had delightedly witnessed her first Christmas pantomime; and being told afterward I was one of the people of the play, she watched and listened eagerly some time before coming and resting a dimpled hand on mine, to ask disappointedly, “Please, does all the actin’ people have ‘emselves jes’ same as any one?”

Poor blue-eyed tot, she had expected at least a few twirls about the room, a few bounds and hand kisses; and here I was “’having” just like any one.  So all my mistaken vexation gone, I’ll try to make plain our social condition behind the scenes.