"Say, professor, I want to see you."
"Are you speaking to me?" said Von Barwig; his voice faltering.
"Yes," replied the showman, "that's just what I am." Coming over to Von Barwig he took him by the arm and led him almost by force into the entrance of the Museum. "Say, professor," he asked, "how would you like a job?"
"A job?" Von Barwig repeated helplessly, trying to realise the meaning of the man's words.
"A job; yes, to be sure. Can you thump the ivories?"
"Thump the ivories?" Von Barwig looked so mystified that the man volunteered an explanation.
"Play the pianner," and suiting the action to the word he perforated the air with ten large fingers.
"I play—yes. I—I play a little—not well——"
"Well, do you want the job? We've got a day professor, but we need a night professor. Day professor plays from eight till eight; night professor from eight till two or three. Depends on the crowds. Come on, now; I like your looks. Say the word and the job is yours."
It was not pride that made Von Barwig silent when he wanted to speak; he simply did not grasp the man's meaning.