The Mayor answered him in a single word: Mr. Mix started, and gripped the receiver more tightly. “Nothing!... Why, I don’t quite get you on that.... It’s an open and shut 207 proposition––No, I most certainly am not trying to make a pun; I’m calling you up in my official capacity. That’s the most flagrant, barefaced attempt to evade a law––Why, an idiot could see it! It’s to drive the crowd into the Orpheum during the week, so that––”
He listened, with increasing consternation. “Who says it isn’t a violation? Who? The City Attorney?” Mr. Mix was pale; and this was quite as uncommon as for his fiancée to blush. “When did he say so?... What’s that? What’s his grounds?... Repeat it, if you don’t mind––Practically a charitable performance by invitation––”
“Why, sure,” said the Mayor. He realized perfectly that Mr. Mix had the League and another thousand people of small discernment behind him, but the Mayor didn’t want to be re-elected, and did want to retire from politics. “The Orpheum doesn’t say a fellow that comes Sunday has got to prove he spent the money for the tickets, does it? Anybody that’s got the stubs can come. They’re just as much invitations as if they were engraved cards sent around in swell envelopes. If you’ve got 208 one––whether you paid for the invitation or not, or if you got it in the mail or picked it up on the street, you can go on in. And as long’s no money’s taken in over the counter, the City Attorney says it’s O.K. Of course, you can petition the Council, if you want to.”
Mr. Mix was licking his lips feverishly. “I’m obliged to you for your advice. We will petition the Council––I’ll have it signed, sealed and delivered by noon today.... And if that don’t do, we’ll apply for an injunction.... And we’ll carry this to the Governor before we’re done with it, Rowland, and you know what state laws we’ve got to compel a Mayor of an incorporated city to do his duty!... This is where we part company, Rowland. You’ll hear from me later!” He slammed down the receiver, rattled the hook impetuously, and called Mirabelle’s number.
“Mirabelle ... good-morning; have you ... No, I’m not cross at you, but––Oh! Good-morning, dear.... This is important. Have you seen the Orpheum’s ad in the Herald? Isn’t that the most barefaced thing you ever saw? Don’t we want to rush in and––”
She interrupted him. “Why, no, not when it’s for charity, do we?”
Mr. Mix nearly dropped the receiver. “Charity! Charity your grandmother! It’s a cheap trick to attract people during the week, so they’ll have a show on Sunday in spite of the law!”
“Oh, I don’t doubt there’s some catch in it. That’s Henry all over. But if the League went out and interfered with an educational and sort of religious program with a collection for charity, we’d–––”
“Yes, but my dear woman, would we sanction a dance for charity? A poker-party? A wine-supper? We–––”