"Ready?" came in questioning tones from Mr. Pertell, the stage director, as he looked sharply from one to the other.
A tall, well-built man, with iron-gray hair, nodded, but did not speak.
"Let her go, Russ!" Mr. Pertell exclaimed.
"Vait! Vait a minute!" called one of the actors, with a pronounced German accent.
"Well, what's the matter now, Mr. Switzer?" asked the director, with a touch of impatience.
"I haf forgotten der imbortant babers dot I haf to offer mine enemy in dis play. I must have der babers."
"Gracious, I should say so!" said the manager. "Where's Pop Snooks?" and he looked around for the property man, who had to produce on short notice anything from a ten-ton safe to a hairpin.
"Hi, Pop!" called Mr. Pertell. "Make up a bundle of important, legal-looking papers, with seals on. Mr. Switzer has to use 'em in this play. I forgot to tell you."
"Have 'em for you right away!" cried the property man, and a little later Mr. Switzer had his "babers."
"I guess we're all right now. Start up, Russ," ordered the stage director, who was also the manager of the troupe.