Instead of his usual attempt at lofty callousness, however, he smiled that
dismal, marionette-like smile of his. That gave me an idea, of which I said
nothing at the time.
Several months afterward, a manager, who is a friend of mine, was suddenly
plunged in distress because of the serious illness of an actor who was to
fill a part in a new American comedy that the manager was to produce on the
next night.
"What on earth shall I do?" he asked.
"Play the part yourself, as Hoyt does in such an emergency--or get Newgag."
"Who's Newgag?"
"He's a friend of mine, out of a position. I met him to-day very much
frayed."
"Bring him to me."
Newgag was overwhelmed when I told him of the opportunity.
"I never acted in straight comedy," he said. "I can't do it. I might as
well try to play Juliet."
"He wants you only to speak the lines, that's all. You're a quick study,
you know. Come on!"
I had almost to drag the man to the manager. He allowed himself, in a
semistupefied condition, to be engaged. He took the part, sat up all
night in his boarding-house and learned it, went to rehearsal almost
letter-perfect in the morning, and nervously prepared to face the ordeal of
the evening.
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