The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-05-20

MY ELL, "when that I was a AA/ little tiny girl" to paraphrase
 \" the epilogue from Twelfth Night" and when my best girl friend was just mot quite so little nor quite so tiny, it chanced one day that the wind didn't blow and the rain didn't rain, and so the thing we had been planning for weeks happened. It was foolish thing and naughty thing. But we were very young and very foolish too, and, as look back on 1t now, 1t was so ludicrous that the folly of 1t and the naughtiness of 1t nre lost in the humor of 1t. That phase of 1t, however, could not have suggested Itself at the time to two families who for forty-eight hours nearly distracted, or to the newspapers that were printing big headlines about us.
 Yet even the families, after everything had simmered down and all was we'll again, realized that during our escapade we had had one experience worth treas uring, because it proved that the rough est human exterior may hide beneath it gentle and kindly nature. That ex- perience and IS sequel are what lead me fo tell this story. Without them it sim ply would have been an escapade of two foolish young girls. With them it has touch of something very human, and in the end something very un- usual-something it seems to me worth the telling. l presume that by this time the reader has guessed the nature of the escapade to which have referred, and that 1 may venture to whet curiosity by stating that, when we were safely lilies, our people advertised far and wide, but vainly, for tramp who had acted toward us like knight of old, and whom, ten years later, discovered amid strangely different surroundings, trans- formed in appearance and in wholly changed station in life.
 l come from "the coast" and at the time when what 1 am about to relate happened, was living with my parents Tn San. Francisco. was only eight years old-a schoolgirl. There was at that time in San Francisco an excellent French school kept by Madame Zitska, and 1t was to her school that I was going. No member of my family was Tn any way connected with the stage, but 1 seem to have had an inborn love for it. San Francisco's favorite actress then was Ellie Wilton. She was a heroine in my eyes, so 1t was quite natural that when 1 discovered that one
 
 niece, I singled her out from among all the other girls at school for my fast friend. She adored her aunt, I adored her aunt; and think what drew us so strongly to each other was the opportun- ity our friendship gave us to adore her aunt together.
 My parents had no special fondness for the theatre They enjoyed it in about the same manner that the average theatregoer does, and they certainly did not encourage me to go to 1t, but rather the reverse But Ellie Wilton's niece being my best friend and going more or less to see her act, I was allowed to go too To us little girls the orchestra stalls were seventh heavens, and the stage realm far beyond this earth. We made no allowance for tinsel and foot lights It was real to us and we 1onged to be part of it. I believe my little friend had thrown out suggestion at home that she wanted to become an actress like auntie," and had been promptly "squelched," and by no one more promptly than said "auntie." I never dared breathe a word at home about my own burning ambition, but know both my friend and myself thought 1t very "queer" that the hint she had thrown out had met with such sn unfavorable reception from her people. However, we were close mouth cd little conspirators, and however much we talked between ourselves about our plans, and that was almost constantly, we gave no one else an inkling of them. Madame Zitska's school was situated in what then was known as the Western addition" It now is residence section. The house in which the school was held in time went the way of most houses m city sections that are being finn