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A Theatrical Boarding-House in Sydney 93who heads my list as the greatest actorI have ever seen; Dion Boucicault, whoseevery movement was a joy, the enchantingMrs. Brough—George Anson, PattieBrown, Emma Romer, Jenny Watt-Tanner, Cecil Ward—all and every oneof that incomparable stock company!There were no great names amongMiss Leaney's boarders. Those whocame to her were of the rank and file ofthe profession, hard-working, ambitious,deeply interested in the theatre and invery little else. I can't remember thatwe ever talked of current events; nobooks were read, except perhaps a trashynovel to pass the time on a rainy Sunday.The stage, the actors, and the plays werediscussed morning, noon, and night.The only drone in that busy hive wasMiss Tracy, who had the big back roomon the top floor. She had once been aleader of the chorus, but had to retire asshe grew too stout for the part. She wasa very tall woman, fair as a Swede, withstraw-colored hair and an enormous bust.She had never had a speaking part on thestage, but was far more theatrical in hergestures and allusions than the real actresses.She had a way of touching herforehead with the tips of her fingers,rolling her eyes, and waving her hand inthe air when she said "I remember" thatwas tremendously effective.Miss Tracy evidently had a privateincome, for she dressed well, did no work,and had plenty of time which she spentin making calls. There were always womentrailing up the two long flights of stairsto see Miss Tracy.Her room was a large, light corner one.The first things that caught your eye onentering were the photographs. Theywere tacked all over the walls close togetherin a mass that reached the ceiling.They were mostly autographed picturesof theatrical friends, but many were ofherself in the great days of her youth andbeauty. She pointed them out withpride. They showed a tall, buxom girlin tights, a satin bodice laced into painfulproportions, trunks, and very high-heeledboots, a fashion that hideously distortedthe human frame, but Miss Tracy lookedat the photographs fondly, tapped herforehead, rolled her eyes, and "remembered,ah me!" some more.She told me the story of her life severaltimes, with tremendous dramatic intensityand great variety. In one versionshe had been very wealthy, the spoiled,petted wife of an indulgent husband.She had much "carriage company" (itwas the first time I had heard the expressionand it stuck in my mind), but a darkcloud was approaching. Her dearestfriend, a woman of rank and fashion,crept into her life like a snake in thegrass, inveigled her husband, and elopedwith him. Miss Tracy, with agonizedtappings of the forehead and waving ofwhite fingers, recalled, ah me! that terriblenight when the truth burst uponher. Throwing her ermine cloak abouther shoulders, she drove in her carriageand pair to the theatre, where she fellfainting in her opera-box !Teddy Royce and his wife (the realfounders of Miss Leaney's theatricalboarding-house) had met in their youthmany years before in London, as Columbineand Harlequin in a Christmas pantomime.They had fallen in love witheach other dancing their fairy dances tolovely music, were married at the end ofthe run, and I saw in real life a couplewho "lived happy ever after." They hadnine children, all living, the older boyssupporting themselves, the girls married,and there were two of the youngest stillat school in England. Only one cloudhad crossed their blue horizon—a terriblemisfortune—but it had only served todraw them closer together. A few yearsbefore they came to Australia, Teddy,who was what he called "an operaticdancer," had missed his step in leapingthrough a trap-door. He fell, was pickedup insensible, and lay on his back paralyzedfor a year. He could not move orspeak, though he could see and hear allthat went on about him. It was the passionate,unwearying devotion of his wifethat saved him. She understood thequiver of an eyelash, and never lost hopeor allowed him to despair. She riggedup a tray in front of him, so arranged thathe could watch her put picture-puzzlestogether. She chatted to him gayly,telling all the pleasant gossip of thetheatre—sometimes, as she confessed tohim afterward, with a catch at her heartfor fear he did not understand. And in