"Have you got your copy all ready?" asked the man, nervously. "There is no time to spare." "Here it is," said Al, producing a slip of paper from his vest pocket. "I thought you were to have a full page?" said the foreman. "So I am, according to contract," smiled the boy. "But there are only half a dozen lines here." "That's all." "Oh, you want a display ad.?" "No--at least not the kind you mean. I want those few lines repeated over and over again until the entire space contracted for is filled." "You want it printed solid?" gasped the foreman. "That's it." "But I could give you a much more attractive ad. We can get up a full-page display ad. that would be simply out of sight." "I don't doubt it, but I want another kind." "All right," said the foreman, with a pitying sigh; "you pay your money and you take your choice." "That's the idea." The foreman carefully perused the advertisement. This is what he read: "See the New York Comedy Company, Augustus Wattles, Manager. "See this great company in 'Loved and Lost.' "See the real locomotive, under a full head of steam. "See the real steam yacht. "See all this. "But---- "Please don't look at the queer old man in the third row of the orchestra." The foreman stared at Al as if he thought him an escaped lunatic. "That's a strange ad.," he said. "Is it?" laughed the boy. "I never saw anything like it before." "Well?" "Well, do you want it to go in just as you have written it?" "I do." "Without any attempt at display?" "Without the slightest attempt at display." "That goes, then. Good-night; I must get the men at work on this at once." "I've done all this on my own responsibility," reflected Al, as he left the place. "If it turns out a fizzle, Mr. Wattles won't have so much confidence in me in the future. Well, there's no use fretting now; the thing is done. If it doesn't work I shall know enough not to repeat the experiment." Still Al did fret a little after he got to his room. The apartment that had been assigned to him was a large, gloomy room on one of the upper floors of the building. It was about half filled with paintings not hung, but standing against the wall. These, the hotel clerk had explained, were the property of an impecunious artist who had formerly boarded in the house, and were being held until his bill was paid. "We left them right there," explained the clerk, "not thinking that we would need to put anyone in the room for some time. But on account of the rush to the circus the house is full, and we must put you there." It made very little difference to Al where he slept, and he said so. He was only going to spend one night in the house, and the room was comfortable, if it was rather gloomy. Entering it after his visit to the _Bugle_ office, he threw himself into a chair and fixed his eyes on a full-length picture of a man in modern dress. He did not even take the trouble to light the gas.