“Don’t laugh, you horrid man,” I exclaimed; “just come and help.”
He took a little gentle persuading, but finally gave in, and being provided with another white garment he began to assist, and he and I finally finished that wondrous scene-painting together.
After a long vista of years Mrs. Beerbohm Tree—who, it will be remembered, also acted with us in Harley Street—and Weedon Grossmith—who helped me paint the scenery for our little performance—were playing the two leading parts together at Drury Lane in Cecil Raleigh’s _Flood Tide_.
The two little daughters of the Trees, aged six and eight respectively, were taken by their father one afternoon to see their mother play at the Lane. They sat with him in a box, and enjoyed the performance immensely.
“Well, do you like it better than _Richard II._?” asked Tree.
There was a pause. Each small maiden looked at the other, ere replying:
“It isn’t quite the same, but we like it just as much.”
When they reached home they were asked by a friend which of the two plays they really liked best.
“Oh, mother’s,” for naturally the melodrama had appealed to their juvenile minds, “but we did not like to tell father so, because we thought it might hurt his feelings.”
The part that delighted them most at Drury Lane was the descent of the rain, that wonderful rain which had caused so much excitement, and which was composed of four tons of rice and spangles thrown from above, and verily gave the effect of a shower of water.
But to return to Weedon Grossmith. Whether he found art didn’t pay at the studio in Harley Street, or whether he was asked to paint more ugly old ladies than pretty young ones, I do not know; but he gave up the house, and went off to America for a trip. So he said at the time, but the trip meant that he had accepted an engagement on the stage. He made an instantaneous hit. When he returned to England, sure of his position, as he thought, he found instead that he had a very rough time of it, and it was not until he played with Sir Henry Irving in _Robert Macaire_ that he made a London success. Later he “struck oil” in Arthur Law’s play, _The New Boy_ under his own management.
Round the _The New Boy_ circled a romance. Miss May Palfrey, who had been at school with me, was the daughter of an eminent physician who formerly lived in Brook Street. She had gone upon the stage after her father’s death, and was engaged to play the girl’s part. The “engagement” begun in the theatre ended, as in the case of Forbes Robertson, in matrimony, and the day after _The New Boy_ went out, the new girl entered Weedon Grossmith’s home as his wife.