“Well, we usually charge a license fee for traveling shows, but I guess we’ll forget about the fee in this case. Yes, boys, you have my permission to go ahead with your show. Only don’t try any skin-game. If you do, you’ll get into trouble.”
We thanked him warmly, assuring him that our show was clean, and no skin-game, as he called it.
“Let me give you some free tickets,” Scoop offered.
But the executive firmly brushed the tickets aside.
“No, boys. I don’t accept presents for granting favors. To not do that is one of the rules of my office. I thank you, though. And it isn’t [[86]]improbable that I will be around this evening to see what kind of magicians you are.”
When we were almost to the door, Scoop turned back.
“I wonder,” he said, “if you can tell us the name of the people who live in the log house on the canal bank coming into town.”
“You must mean the Garber place.”
“There’s a girl about my size in the family.”
“Yes; that is old Mr. Garber’s granddaughter. What about it?”