"Announce that we are to lay off a short time in order to—to—well anything you can think of."
"That is no plan at all; it would look rather fishy to reorganize twice in one week."
"Say that we are studying our parts for a realistic drama, entitled 'Would You put Yourself in Their Places.'"
"Now see here, boys, this isn't a thing to joke about. We must give a show to-night, and the question is how can it be done?" the manager asked in a tone of despair.
This was what no one could answer.
It surely seemed as if the squire had been prompted by an unkind fate to lay the heavy hand of the law upon this particular branch of the minstrel business, in order to deter others from traveling in the same path, and to prevent this company from inflicting stale jokes upon the public.
Finding that the chief performers could not suggest a way out of the difficulty, the manager took Jet as far aside as the size of the cell would permit.
"How much money have you got?" he asked in a whisper.
"None that belongs to me. The five dollars I loaned you was put in my hands for an especial purpose, and I really had no right to dispose of it as I did."
"But if you've got enough to pay these fines, I'll promise faithfully that you shall have every cent we take in until the full amount is paid back. There isn't any risk, my boy, for we shall certainly do a big business here."