Your male singer is often a bird of the same fine feather. If you wish to see the ideal of dressiness as exemplified by the gentlemen of the road, see these individuals arrive at the offices of the publishers. The radiance of half-hose and neckties is not outdone by the sprightliness of the suit pattern or the glint of the stone in the shirt-front. Fresh from Chicago or Buffalo they arrive, rich in self-opinion fostered by rural praise, perhaps possessed of a new droll story, always loaded with the details of the hit they made.
“Well, well! You should have seen how that song went in Baltimore. I never saw anything like it. Why, it’s the hit of the season!”
New songs are forthcoming, a new batch delivered for his service next year.
Is he absolutely sure of the estimation in which the house holds his services? You will hear a sequel to this, not this day perhaps but a week or a month later, during his idle summer in New York.
“You haven’t twenty-five handy you could let me have, have you, Pat? I’m a little short to-day.”
Into the publisher’s eye steals the light of wisdom and decision. Is this individual worth it? Will he do the songs of the house twenty-five dollars’ worth of good next season? Blessed be fate if there is a partner to consult. He will have time to reflect.
“Well, George, I haven’t it right here in the drawer, but I can get it for you. I always like to consult my partner about these things, you know. Can you wait until this afternoon?”
Of course the applicant can wait, and between whiles are conferences and decisions. All things considered, it may be advisable to do it.
“We will get twenty-five out of him, any way. He’s got a fine tenor voice. You never can tell what he might do.”
So a pleasant smile and the money may be waiting when he returns. Or, he may be put off, with excuses and apologies. It all depends.