Handy continued, not paying the slightest attention to the speaker's interruption: "The next train leaves at 10:13 for the city—about an hour from now. Your ticket will be given you at the station, and you can leave here. You are no longer a member of this company."
This episode, instead of weakening Handy in the estimation of his people, tended rather to strengthen him. It proved that he could wield power when he considered it necessary to do so. Notwithstanding that the departing one was unpopular with his associates, he had managed through insinuating manners and slippery speech to create petty dissensions. After he departed he was voted very much of a bore by those who remained. Handy, on the contrary, did not even once refer to the subject. The act he considered from a purely business standpoint. He had matters on hand of greater moment to engross his attention.
All told, his company numbered seven acting members. He had no advance man or press agent. He did not need either. Weston he made business manager—he himself was director in general and actor in particular. So far everything was all right. What puzzled him most was the class of entertainment he had to supply. His company was not such as he considered an adaptable one; it was not such as he had when he made the descent on Newport. The dwarf was not there; neither was Nibsy—both valuable people from a strolling player's standpoint. It is true he had his loyal friend Smith, and Smith could be relied upon for any emergency. With the ability of the remaining members of his troupe he was comparatively unacquainted. In no way disheartened, he determined to do the best he could. A scene from one play and an act from another, with a liberal sprinkling of songs and dances and monologues sandwiched in between the so-called dramatic portions, he concluded, would be as good a bill of fare as he could supply. This, with the assistance of the Handel and Hayden Philharmonic Orchestra, ought to in all reason satisfy Gotown and its audience.
"We are not so all-fired badly fixed, after all, Smith, old boy," said Handy, in his customary optimistic manner, as they sat together reviewing the situation. "With seven people we can attempt almost any practical play. We played, you remember, 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' with that number. We also got away with 'Monte Cristo' with seven. Of course it wasn't as well done as James O'Neill does it, but that's another question. Let me see! How many did we have when we presented 'Around the World in Eighty Days'?"
"Fourteen," quickly responded Smith, "but that included a grand ballet."
"Ah, that's so! So it did," said Handy, "but we lost money on that venture. There's nothing in these big companies. Small, compact, but strong utility companies win every time. Charley Frohman will tell you the same thing."
"Seven is none too many for our work, Handy."
"No. It's about the proper figure. With judicious and intelligent doubling, a good manager might tackle almost anything. Say, Smith, did you ever have a shy at Richmond, in 'Richard III'?"
"Well, I should smile," responded Smith, with a delighted expression on his face. "Richmond! one of my best roles. Say! How is this," and immediately he struck a theatrical attitude and began: "Thus far into the bowels of the land have we marched on without impediment; Gloster, the——'"
"Hold! Let up right where you are," interrupted Handy. "I know the rest. Say, Smith, my boy,"—and the manager looked earnestly at the would-be Richmond—"I am going to give you the opportunity of your life."