For those afflicted with midyearitis, we can suggest something much better than the Widow's--Jeanne Eagels' in "Her Cardboard Lover," now playing at at the Plymouth Theatre. We, for one, found it the most delightful comedy of the season. It has all that a regulation French comedy should have--except dullness. The strange behavior of a Pekinese dog, and the appearance of the conscientious secretary in a suit of sunset pajamas provided just that touch of nature that makes the whole world kin.

Jacques Deval wrote the original play, and Wingate and our old friend P. G. Wodehouse the English version. The three have produced a sparkling bit of dialogue and clever situations with a very proper sense of restraint and emphasis.

But the play only begins with them. The laurels are all Miss Eagels'. Throughout the three acts--and she is on the stage practically all the time--she is cold or capricious or coy with a change of pace and a never-failing charm that causes a continuous accompaniment of laughter from the audience.

Barry O'Neill as Tony is very suave, and Anthony Bushnell the likable, self-conscious watchdog of a lover,--all of which combine to make it one of the things not to be missed.