"What's the use?" said the manager of the theater, with a weary smile. "It's sure to be a losing engagement, anyhow."
"Maybe not," returned Al. "You'd better get the 'standing-room-only' sign dusted off, in case we need it."
"Rats!" was the response. "Young man, when you know this business and this town as well as I do, you'll sing a different tune. We shall have about two hundred people in the house to-morrow night—maybe not quite so many."
And he exhibited the advance sheet, which Al examined with a sinking heart. Only half a dozen seats had been sold for the performance.
CHAPTER XIII.
A STROKE OF LUCK.
"Something has got to be done," said the young advance agent.
"Everything possible has been done," returned the manager, pettishly. "The amount of the thing is that we have struck an unlucky night, and there's no help for it."
"Maybe there is," said Al, quietly. "I mean to have a big house to-morrow night somehow or other."
The manager laughed sarcastically.