At two o'clock in the afternoon Handy gave a free concert in front of the tent. The audience, it is needless to say, was not a critical one and was easily pleased. When it was over and the energetic manager announced a display of fireworks in the evening, both before and after the performance, there wasn't a youngster within the sound of his voice who did not spread the cheering information far and wide. Those who came to attend the fair in the little church performed that duty early in the afternoon and afterward arranged to visit the tent show of the actors later on in the evening. The display of fireworks was not what one might expect to witness at Manhattan Beach in the height of the season, when that popular resort was swept by ocean breezes and when the renowned Pain was there, but there was sufficient red fire burned to light up the surrounding country. There was a crowd outside and when the doors were opened there was a rush for seats.
The house or tent was filled in a short time, and the audience was treated to a polyglot entertainment of the most remarkable character. Nibsinsky's Eyetalian selections were listened to with some degree of attention and a considerable measure of perplexity. He could not be considered a success and no inducements could compel him to repeat the performance. But these things will occasionally happen even with some of the latest edition of stars! Ysaye's musical prodigy made some extraordinary exhibitions with his classical contortions, but his imitations of an amateur violinist with "Home, Sweet Home" won the approval of all present and brought down the house. It was voted the best thing of the whole show. The familiar choruses too pleased the young folks, so much so that they all joined in and had a jolly time. The grown people laughed heartily over all the threadbare jokes that were given, and which have been passing current in every minstrel show and country circus from the days of Dan Rice down to Lew Dockstader.
"It was, I have an idea, the worst show we ever gave," declared Handy a few days after while speaking of it, "but the people seemed to like it. Just as it is in New York, it is a difficult matter to strike public taste. That's what makes the manager's life like unto that of a policeman's—not a happy one. The people who paid to see the show made no complaint, and I don't think that I should."
"Do you think the dominie's opposition hurt your entertainment much?"
"Hurt it! Not in the slightest. On the contrary, I believe it benefited it. His opposition advertised the entertainment, and, by the way, advertising is another of these vexed problems most difficult of solution. I felt I owed his reverence something for what he unintentionally accomplished in our behalf, so how do you think I got square with him?"
"That's too much for me, old chap," answered his friend. "How?"
"Well, the next day was Sunday, and before we got away I called on Mr. McGuiness, to return him thanks for the way he treated us. 'Mr. McGuiness,' said I, 'you have been kind and generous to my little company of players, who are doing their best to make an honest living in their own peculiar way. I now come again to you to ask that you do me one more favor.' 'What is it?' said he. 'It is this,' said I. 'Will you accompany me to call on the dominie? He helped me with his opposition last night, and I want to get square with him if I can.' McGuiness hesitated. 'Oh, don't fear,' I assured him. 'I mean no harm. The fair at the little church, I learned, was to swell the fund that's being raised to help the widow and orphan. I want you to go with me to ask the dominie to accept the offering of a few poor strolling players to increase the fund.' McGuiness thrust his hand toward me, but said nothing. I could see he was affected, for there was a watery look in his eyes. We walked together in silence down the road until we reached the little church."
"And the dominie?"
"He met us like a man. And when I explained my errand, and handed him our little dole, and turned as if to leave, big, good-hearted McGuiness, his voice somewhat affected by his feelings, said, 'Howld on a minnit; I don't know, dominie, what he's givin' you, and what's more I don't care, but you can count on me, dominie, for double the amount.'
"I don't know when I felt so happy, as I walked down to the shore, between the dominie and McGuiness, for I felt we had done an act that men might well feel an honest pride in, while we made two men friends in that little village who might otherwise have remained estranged."