"They've been giving that five hundredth performance in every town they've played in for the last month; and their souvenirs are not worth over fifty cents a gross."
"All very true, but the public will have 'em. I hoped your advance man would have some taking counter-attraction."
"So he did have, but—— Oh, well, it's no use talking about that. What's done can't be helped, but I won't be left in this way again. Where is the nearest telegraph office?"
"On the next block. What are you going to do?"
"Wire to New York for a new advance agent. I happen to know of an A1 man who is out of an engagement. There are two or three others after him, but I guess I can make it worth his while to go with me. I won't get left in this way again, you can bet your boots!"
"That's all right," growled Mr. Perley, "but it doesn't help out the present engagement any."
"No, but we are joint sufferers in that, and we may as well grin and bear it."
And the irate manager of the New York Comedy Company started for the telegraph office with fire in his eyes and a look of determination on his face.
Neither he nor Mr. Perley had observed the presence in the little group of listeners to their conversation of a rather good-looking, well-dressed boy of about eighteen.
This lad did not lose a word of the excited discussion, and, as the manager started to walk away, he muttered: