"That I can't precisely explain. I have seen some of the worst so-called actors that ever trod the boards catch on with the fickle public, while counting railroad ties was the reward for some of the most talented in the business. It isn't talent, ability, or merit that always tells in this world. Don't you know that? To be sure, if you have money to back any one or all of them up, together with grit enough to hold on until the tide turns, you may stand a chance. But sometimes, even then one gets left." "Pshaw! I've known fellows without any one of these qualifications you have enumerated succeed--fellows who had neither friends nor capital to aid them," responded Fogg, as he removed his coat. "How do you account for that, old man?" "Easily enough," answered Handy, seemingly not a bit put out. "They must have had those magnificent endowments which may be tersely summed up in the simple words 'cheek' and 'push,' qualities sufficiently potent to transform a mouse-trap into a fortune or a tobacco patent of some kind into a grand opera house. These are, my boy, the magician's wand. Hurry up and peel off your vest. Cheek is the capital with which the impecunious push ahead while modest merit remains in the background waiting for a chance. There, now, don't stand and stare. Pull off your shoes. You're too slow. As I was saying, cheek in business generally is the _avant courier_ of success. Catch on to my French? Say, what's the matter now--burst a button off your pants? Never mind. You'll have plenty of time to make repairs during the week. Remember what I tell you. Cheek backed up by energy will win every time, and don't make any mistake about it. There, now, lie down and give me a chance to mend you and help to get your business affairs in some kind of shape that will be intelligible. By the way, have you such things as a pipe and tobacco on the premises?" "Yes, you will find them on the shelf yonder. But see here, Handy. I don't half like this quarantine business--lying down and playing sick when I am as well as you are!" "Then why in the name of Christopher Columbus' cat didn't you think of that before you went off in that fit last night! What did you do that for, eh? A joke? The punishment fits the crime, my friend, and you might as well make up your alleged mind to that fact, and that you'll have to take such medicine as I prescribe for at least a week to come." Just then was heard the ring of the hall bell, and shortly after a servant-like knock at the door of the apartment followed. Handy motioned his patient to lie down and keep still, and then called, "Come in!" The door opened and a servant popped in her head and informed the two friends that down-stairs was a man named Draper, who wanted to see Mr. Fogg. "Draper! Draper!" repeated Handy, as if endeavoring to recall the name to his recollection. "Fogg, dear boy, do you know any one named Draper?" Then turning to the servant: "Are you certain you got the gentleman's name correct?"