"So you're going to open a week earlier?" gasped Mr. Author to Mr. Producer, when they were alone in the interval between the exit of the three and the entrance upon the scene of the performers, who came swiftly across the room to learn their fate. "And you've booked three weeks more!"
"Well," said Mr. Producer, "you know the boys only pencilled those weeks in—pencil marks can be rubbed out."
The next day as they were on their way to the train to go up to the town where the act was to open, Mr. Producer suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to send Miss Secretary up to the Booking Offices for his contract. He wanted that contract particularly, for he had a feud of long standing with the manager of that particular house. So up he rushed to get that contract, with Mr. Author tagging at his heels.
It was the first time Mr. Author had seen even the waiting room of a booking office—it amazed him by its busy air. A score or more performers crowded its every inch of space. They were thickest around a little grilled window, behind which stood a boy who seemed to know them all. Some he dismissed with a "Come in tomorrow." Others he talked with at length, and took their cards. When he had a handful he disappeared from the window.
But Mr. Producer was calling Mr. Author. Mr. Producer stood holding open the inner door. So in Mr. Author went—to another surprise. Here there was no crush of people—here there was no rush, and little noise. Stenographers stood about, seemingly idle, and at a dozen little desks sat a dozen men quietly bending over rather odd-looking books, or talking with the few men who came in.
One of these men Mr. Author recognized as Mr. Booking Manager, for whom they were to play the second week. He was about to speak to him, when up came a bustling little man who said, "Do you want Miss Headliner for the week of the thirtieth? I can give her to you."
"Nope, all filled. Give you the week of the twenty-third."
"All right."
Mr. Booking Agent made a note in his little book, and Mr. Booking Manager bent over his desk and wrote Miss Headliner's name in his big book—and a business transaction was consummated.
Then Mr. Booking Agent hustled over to another desk and repeated his offer of the week of the thirtieth.