CHAPTER VII.
Peggy Little Knew What Was Before Her.
AH, but a gipsy’s life is not all joys by any manner of means, although to those so young as Peggy and Johnnie, it is quite the life idyllic.
Fitzroy, the captain of the show, had often enough, like most of us who are not born with silver spoons in our mouths, to scratch the elbow of troublesome care. He had to make his caravan tours pay, and the public is a most insatiable monster. The public, in fact, is the same with its amusements as it is with its food, the public want to get the biggest chunk of enjoyment, as well as the biggest hunk of cheese it can possibly get for its penny, and it likes variety too.
Therefore Captain Fitzroy had to be for ever on the qui vive, and looking far ahead of him; and no sooner was one little play put upon the boards for probably a month’s run, than he had to be thinking and planning what he should start next. Some startling innovation, some play with a daring plot, wild music, scenic effect and plenty of go and change, with a glorious finale. “That was the thing to draw ’em,” as Giant Gourmand used to remark.
It was the immortal Dickens who said that giants were all a trifle weak about the knees. Whether that be so or not we will not pause to consider, but one thing is certain—Gourmand was not weak about the head. He was possessed of gigantic intellect, and he generally carried it about with him.
Fitzroy and he used to have many and many a consultation as to ways and means.
“What we want, cap’n,” said the giant, “is to keep the pot a-boiling.”
This wise remark was made in the evening of the day after Johnnie had the grand wrestling match with Charlie Crockett.
“Pot a-boiling, Mr. Gourmand? Yes, and twenty pots, to say nothing of nosebags. And they must all be filled at the expense of the public, of course.”
“Well, sir, we give them the worth of their money. We give the beggars value.”