"Really," says Mr. Hubbard, eyin' the crowd doubtful, "I hardly believe I care to——"
"Ah, I'll clear 'em out in two shakes," says I. "Just follow after me. Hey, you! Heim gagen. Mushong! Gangway, gangway!" and I motions threatenin'. "Ah, beat it, you garlic destroyers!" I sings out. "Back up there, and take your feet with you! Back, you fatheads!" and I sends one caromin' to the right and another spinnin' to the left.
The best I could do, though, was to open a three-foot lane through 'em, and there they stuck, lined up on either side like they was waitin' for a parade. It was something like that too,—me leadin' the way, Pinckney steerin' J. Q. by the arm. We'd got inside the doorway without a word bein' said, when a bright-eyed Dago girl with a rainbow-tinted handkerchief about her neck breaks the spell.
"Picture, Meester—take-a da picture?" says she pleadin'. With that the others breaks loose. "Picture, Meester! Please-a, Meester? Picture, picture!" They says it in all sorts of dialects, with all sorts of variations, all beggin' for the same thing. "Picture, picture!" They reaches out, grabbin' at our coat sleeves. Three of 'em had hold of J. Q. at once when I whirls on 'em.
"Ah, ditch the chorus!" I yells at 'em. "What do you think this is, anyway, a movie outfit? Get back there! Hands off, or I call the cops!"
It's strenuous work; but I manages to quiet 'em long enough for Pinckney and Mr. Hubbard to get through and slip up to the studio. Then I tries to shoo the bunch into the street; but they don't shoo for a cent. They still demands to have their pictures taken.
"Say, you Carlotta, there!" says I, singlin' out the Dago girl. "Who gave you this nutty picture hunch?"
"Why, Meester Hama," says she. "Nice-a man, Meester Hama."
"Is he?" says I. "Well, you wait here until I see him about this. Wait—understand?" With that I skips upstairs, and explains the mystery of our bein' mobbed. "It's a whiskered freak on the top floor they're after," says I. "Swifty, run up and get that Ham and Eggs gent. I'm yearnin' for speech with him. I don't know what this is all about; but I'll soon see, and block any encores."
"Quite right," says Mr. Hubbard. "This is all extremely annoying. Such a rabble!"