"Well, if you are you had better advise him to stick to farming, or whatever he is doing, and keep out of the theatrical business; we have too many farmers in it already." "He wouldn't take the advice, sir." Mr. Wattles laughed as he entered the telegraph office. "If the boy's friend has got as much 'go' as he has," he muttered, "he might do something in the business." In a few minutes the message had been sent. An hour and a half later a messenger entered the lobby of the hotel with a telegram. "For me?" questioned the manager, who had been impatiently pacing the floor for the last twenty minutes. "Yes, sir." Mr. Wattles tore open the envelope. A muttered exclamation escaped his lips as he hurriedly perused the message. "Well, sir?" said a voice at his elbow. Turning, he confronted the lad with whom he had had the brief interview which we have recorded. "You here? Well, you do mean business." "Is your offer accepted, sir?" the boy asked. "Confound it, no! The man I wanted signed yesterday with another manager. Well, send your friend round and I'll talk with him." "He is here, sir." "Where?" "I am Allen Allston." CHAPTER II. AL TALKS BUSINESS. Mr. Wattles stared at the boy a moment in speechless surprise, then burst into a loud laugh. "You don't mean to say," he almost gasped, "that you made that application for yourself?" "That's just what I mean to say, sir," replied the lad, quietly. "Why, you must be crazy!" "I don't think I am." "You are only a boy." "I'll get over that in time, Mr. Wattles; and besides, that fact is no proof that I am crazy." "Oh, pshaw! I can't stand here bandying words with you." Al was not in the least taken aback. "That's just what I was thinking," he said. "What?" "That we had been standing up too long. Let's sit down." "Well," said the manager, "you have cheek enough, anyhow." "Cheek is necessary for an advance agent, isn't it, sir?" laughed the boy. "Yes, but--oh, really, this is ridiculous, you know!" "What is ridiculous?" "Your applying for this position." "Why is it ridiculous?" "Who ever heard of a boy advance agent?" "That's just the point. Nobody ever did, and it will be a complete novelty, and a big ad. for the show." Mr. Wattles gazed at the boy almost admiringly. "Well, you are a corker!" he exclaimed. "A good advance agent ought to be a corker, oughtn't he, sir?" "I suppose so--yes." "Shan't we sit down and talk the matter over?" "Yes." And the manager sank into a convenient chair, gazing at his youthful companion with an expression indicative of bewilderment. "I've got him now sure," murmured the lad, but his companion did not hear him; Al did not intend that he should. When they were both seated the boy said: "Now, sir, you want an advance agent, and I want a position. It is lucky we met." "Yes," interrupted Mr. Wattles, "but what the mischief do you know about the business of an advance agent?" "A lot," was the calm reply. "How did you learn it?"