"Oh, first-rate, of course. Barnum always draws a crowd," was the reply of the ticket-seller, to whom I was not known.
Most of the gentlemen present, however, knew me, and they found much difficulty in restraining their laughter.
"Did Barnum make a good speech?" I asked.
"I did not hear it. I was out in the ticket-office. I guess it was pretty good, for I never heard so much laughing as there was all through his speech. But it makes no difference whether it was good or not," continued the ticket-seller, "the people will go to see Barnum."
"Barnum must be a curious chap," I remarked.
"Well, I guess he is up to all the dodges."
"Do you know him?" I asked.
"Not personally," he replied; "but I always get into the Museum for nothing. I know the doorkeeper, and he slips me in free."
"Barnum would not like that, probably, if he knew it," I remarked.
"But it happens he don't know it," replied the ticket-seller, in great glee.