“I cannot let you go without speaking again of that won-derful evening. Such an artist you have there, that Mrs. Lumbard; she is amazing. In a town the size of Farrandale we are all one family. You put us all under obligation bringing such an artist here!”
“Oh, not I at all; Miss Frink—”
“Miss Frink! Oh, she is the genius of our city!” Mr. Goldstein made known by gestures and upturned eyes that Miss Frink’s glories were indescribable. “You come any time to see me, Mr. Ogden, and I wish you would bring Miss Frink, and I show you both all over the Koh-i-noor, our theater—”
“Thank you, Mr. Goldstein, but I am leaving town to-night—”
“But can’t you spare a little time, a half an hour this afternoon?—it is a palace equal to any in the country. An organ—oh, such an organ I have installed!—we open in less than a month; you would be happy to see those velvet furniture in the lobby.”
“No doubt I should; but I have—”
“That young man at your house, the one who saved our wonderful Miss Frink’s life, he should be in the pictures, you must see that. There’s the story right there, too. I give him introductions; you send him to me.”
John Ogden disengaged the clinging hand from his lapel as best he could, and, mindfully thanking the manager of the Koh-i-noor, contrived to escape with an apology for his pressing business.
Mr. Goldstein called after him cordially as long as he could hear.