Andy began to feel uneasy. He could see the unhappy condition of his roommate and those with him. The worst he feared had come to pass.
Swaying, but still managing not to step on anyone, Dunk made his way to the aisle, and then, getting close to the box where Andy sat, climbed over the rail. The manager motioned to an usher not to interfere. Probably he thought it was the best means of producing quiet.
“Here I am, Andy,” announced Dunk gravely.
“So I see,” spoke Andy, his face blazing at the notice he was receiving. “Sit down and keep quiet. There’s a good act coming.”
“Hush!” exclaimed a number of voices as the curtain slid up, to give place to “Bustling Bodkins,” the tramp juggler. The actor came out in his usual ragged make-up, and proceeded to do things with a pile of empty cigar boxes—really a clever trick. Dunk watched him with curious gravity for a while and then started to climb over the footlights on to the stage.
“No, you don’t, Dunk!” cried Andy, firmly, and despite his chum’s protests he hauled him back. Then he took Dunk firmly by the arm and marched him out of a side entrance of the show-house.