On Thanksgiving Eve the readers were in Morristown, New Jersey, where they were entertained by Thomas Nast.  The cartoonist prepared a quiet supper for them and they remained overnight in the Nast home.  They were to leave next morning by an early train, and Mrs. Nast had agreed to see that they were up in due season.  When she woke next morning there seemed a strange silence in the house and she grew suspicious.  Going to the servants’ room, she found them sleeping soundly.  The alarm-clock in the back hall had stopped at about the hour the guests retired.  The studio clock was also found stopped; in fact, every timepiece on the premises had retired from business.  Clemens had found that the clocks interfered with his getting to sleep, and he had quieted them regardless of early trains and reading engagements.  On being accused of duplicity he said: 

“Well, those clocks were all overworked, anyway.  They will feel much better for a night’s rest.”

A few days later Nast sent him a caricature drawing—­a picture which showed Mark Twain getting rid of the offending clocks.

At Christmas-time they took a fortnight’s holiday and Clemens went home to Hartford.  A surprise was awaiting him there.  Mrs. Clemens had made an adaptation of ‘The Prince and the Pauper’ play, and the children of the neighborhood had prepared a presentation of it for his special delectation.  He knew, on his arrival home, that something mysterious was in progress, for certain rooms were forbidden him; but he had no inkling of their plan until just before the performance—­when he was led across the grounds to George Warner’s home, into the large room there where it was to be given, and placed in a seat directly in front of the stage.

Gerhardt had painted the drop-curtain, and assisted in the general construction of scenery and effects.  The result was really imposing; but presently, when the curtain rose and the guest of honor realized what it was all about, and what they had undertaken for his pleasure, he was deeply moved and supremely gratified.

There was but one hitch in the performance.  There is a place where the Prince says, “Fathers be alike, mayhap; mine hath not a doll’s temper.”

This was Susy’s part, and as she said it the audience did not fail to remember its literal appropriateness.  There was a moment’s silence, then a titter, followed by a roar of laughter, in which everybody but the little actors joined.  They did not see the humor and were disturbed and grieved.  Curiously enough, Mrs Clemens herself, in arranging and casting the play, had not considered the possibility of this effect.  The parts were all daintily played.  The children wore their assumed personalities as if native to them.  Daisy Warner played the part of Tom Canty, Clara Clemens was Lady Jane Grey.

It was only the beginning of The Prince and the Pauper productions.  The play was repeated, Clemens assisting, adding to the parts, and himself playing the role of Miles Hendon.  In her childish biography Susy says: