These are the first words Miss Adams ever spoke about me. It was when she had brought The Little Minister back to Boston, in March, 1900.
Her friend answered, "Yes, she's young, so I'm sure she won't, though I haven't seen her. It was her aunt, Miss Horton who hoped you would let me bring her niece around behind after the matinée. I gather they live together, but the girl's name is Robbins. I've been asked to lunch with them and go to the play."
So Miss Adams agreed.
I was young, and terribly upset because the express delivery wagon did not bring my new spring suit from New York in time for that afternoon. I spent the morning watching the street and calling up the express company.
My aunt was as disappointed as I.
"Wear your spring hat, anyway," she advised.
Never before had I been ushered around "behind." But I was awfully disappointed as Miss Adams came forward to greet us. Oh, no; not in what she said or did; she could not have been more friendly or charming. But because she did not look in the least like Lady Babbie. She still had on the lovely brocade dress, but her make-up! I had never before been close to anyone wearing a regular theatrical make-up. I was mortally afraid that in everyday life she really did not look like Babbie. Of course, as I found out later, she did.
I remember that we talked about Scotch pronunciation. Miss Adams said the Scotch would call her "Baubee," and