What a plain, homely, good face it
is! How pleasant, how helpful it is to come across a good face now
and then! I do not mean a sainted face, suggestive of stained glass
and marble tombs, but a rugged human face that has had the grit, and
rain, and sunshine of life rubbed into it, and that has gained its
expression, not by looking up with longing at the stars, but by
looking down with eyes full of laughter and love at the human things
around it."
"Yes," assented B. "You can put in that if you like. There is no
harm in it. And then you can go on to speak of the play itself, and
give your impressions concerning it. Never mind their being silly.
They will be all the better for that. Silly remarks are generally
more interesting than sensible ones."
"But what is the use of saying anything about it at all?" I urge.
"The merest school-boy must know all about the Ober-Ammergau Passion
Play by this time."
"What has that to do with you?" answers B. "You are not writing for
cultured school-boys. You are writing for mere simple men and
women. They will be glad of a little information on the subject,
and then when the schoolboy comes home for his holiday they will be
able, so far as this topic, at all events, is concerned, to converse
with him on his own level and not appear stupid.
