“The name of Mendelssohn Brown, is pretty well known, I flatter myself,” said the visitor, complacently. “To be brief—I heard you sing last evening, and was much pleased with your rendition of the various selections.”
Harry bowed.
“I am about to form a juvenile Pinafore company, and would like to have you take the leading part. You would make an excellent Admiral. I propose to take my opera company all over the United States. I should be willing to pay you, as the star performer, twenty-five dollars a week.”
Harry opened his eyes in amazement.
“Do you think me capable of singing in opera?” he asked.
“Yes, after being trained by your humble servant. What do you say?”
“I thank you for your flattering offer, Dr. Brown, but I don’t feel at liberty to leave Professor Hemenway.”
The doctor frowned.
“Let me tell you, you stand in your own light, Mr. Vane,” he said, impatiently. “There is some difference between a common juggler, like the Magician of Madagascar,”—the doctor laughed ironically—“and a well-known musical director, who could make you famous. Does Hemenway pay you as much as I offer?”
“No, sir.”