The Connecticut labor press., 1920-06-12

developments at Barton, and went ou and walked. Inquiries at hotels large anl small occupied me until seven o'clock. No one had heard of Mrs Bashford or a Mrs. Farnsworth. My inspection of the occupants of several thousand automobiles proved equally fruitless. I ate a lonely dinner at the club and resumed my search. Hang ing about theater doors, staring at the crowd, is not a digni6ed occupation. and by nine o'clock, having seen the most belated theatergoers vanish, l was tired and footsore. The flaming sign of Searles' "Who Killed Cock Robin?" over the door of the "As You Like It" caught my eye. I sought a seat-the last in the rack-and squeezed into my place in the middle of the last row. AS I had seen the piece at least a dozen times, its nov city was gone for me, but the laughter of the delighted audience was cheer ing. The first act was reaching its continuation, and I watched it with glow of pride in Searles and his skill full craftsmanship.
  went up amid murmurs of pleasure and expectancy, I glanced across the rows of heads. The half-turned face of a man three rows in front of me suddenly caught my attention. There was something curiously familiar in his outlines and the gesture with which. at the moment, he was d.awing his handkerchief across his forehead. It was Montani-beyond any question Montani-and instinctively shrank in my seat and lifted my program as he turned round and swiftly surveyed the rows behind him.
 watched his black head intently until I remembered the superstition that by staring at person in pub lie place you can make him look at you. Montani knew a great many things wanted to know, but I must have time to adjust myself to the shock of his propinquity.
 The house now took note of stir ring in the boxes. There was an ex- cited buzz as the tall form and un- smith, the English actor, were recog- nized. I had read that day of his arrival in New York. With him were two women. My breath came hard and clutched the iron frame of the seat in front of me so violently that it's occupant turned and glared.
 The trio settled into their places quickly, but not before had satisfied myself that Arrowsmith's companions were Alice and Mrs. Farnsworth. As they fell into animated talk I saw that Alice was in her gayest humor. The distinguished tragedian seemed greatly amused by what she was saying to him.
 Must be members of Arrowsmith's company" one of my neighbors re- marked. "They open in two weeks in Shakespearian repertoire"
 Montani had half risen, the better to focus an opera-glass on the box. The gong solemnly announced the sec ond act, and Alice moved her chair to face the stage. Once more Mon tani scanned the party with his glass. As the lights faded Alice, with the pretty languorous gesture so we'll re- membered, opened her fan-the fan of ostrich plumes, that became a blur of white that held my eye through the dusk after the curtain rose.
 Alice, Montani, and the fan! To this combination had now to add the new element introduced into the situation by the apparent familiar acquaintance of Alice and Mrs. Farnsworth with Cecil Arrowsmith. And yet, as the play proceeded on its swift-moving course, I reasoned that there was noth- ing extraordinary in their knowing the eminent actor. He had long been parsonage in England and had late ly been knighted. Their appearance with him at the theater really dis posed of the idea that they might be imposters. The presence of Arrow smith had put zest into the company, and hadn't seen a better perform ance of Searles' play. The trio in the box joined in the prolonged ap- plause at the end of the act.