“Now, the price I get for this act for the breaking-in weeks, is mighty low.  But this is customary.  That is the reason why the performers have to be content with half salaries, and you with half-royalty.  But this price does not affect the future price I will receive.  It is marked on the books as the ‘show price.’  That means that it is recorded in the book-keeping department by the cashier as the price for which I am showing this act to the managers.  When the act has made good, a price is set on the act, and that is the standard price for the other houses that book through these offices.  The book-keeper watches the prices like a hawk, and if I tried to ‘sneak a raise over,’ he would catch it, and both yours truly and Mr. Booking Manager would be called up on the carpet by the head of the Offices.  The only increase that is permitted is when a new season rolls around, or two or three booking managers agree to an increase and consult the office head about boosting the salary on the books.”

That night Mr. Author rather expected to see a dress rehearsal of the act; he was disappointed.  But the next morning there was a full dress rehearsal, played in the brand new special set which had come up with them and that now shone like a pretty picture in the dingy theatre.

It rather amazed Mr. Author to note that the emphasis of this rehearsal was not put on the speeches, but upon the entrances and exits, and the precise use and disposal of the various properties employed.  A glimmering of the reason came to him when Mr. Star promised to murder anyone who moved a book that he used in his “big” scene.  “Unless it is here—­right here—­I’ll never be able to reach it and get back for the next bit without running.”

And so the rehearsal went on, with no effort to improve the lines, but only to blend the physical movements of everyone of the performers to make a perfect whole and to heighten the natural effect of even the most natural action.  Then the dress rehearsal came to an end, and the entire party went out to see the town.

That night, after the performance, they worked again on the act, because Mr. Producer had been seized by an idea.  And when they had gone through the act time and again to incorporate that idea, they all went wearily to bed, praying for success next day.

At ten o’clock in the morning Mr. Author was at the theatre.  He found that other acts had preceded him.  The stage was littered with trunks and scenery, trapeze bars, animal cages and the what-not of a vaudeville show.  Each performer as he came in was greeted by the doorman with the gift of a brass check, on which there was stamped a number.  This number told the performer in what order he was entitled to rehearse.  Vaudeville is a democracy—­first come, first rehearsed.