“Hardly,” replied Carl. “Where is Wampole?”
“Back of the stage. But you ain’t going to join us, you say?”
“We are not,” answered Leo.
“You had better. We are going to make a big thing of the show now.”
“Wampole was always going to do that,” laughed Carl.
They passed up the dingy stairs and into the hall. Nathan Wampole stood on the empty stairs rehearsing a boy of twelve in a funny dialect part.
“That ain’t right!” he roared. “Do it this way! You ain’t worth your salt! Come now, or I’ll crack you with this club!”
“Wampole!” called out the young gymnast.
“Leo! And you, too, Carl! Delighted to see you!” Nathan Wampole’s face took on a smile, and the boy was forgotten. “So you thought you would join us again. I was on the point of sending for you.”
“We are not going to join, and we want to know by what right you are advertising us,” said Carl firmly.