"There is a small part," hesitated Mr. Wattles, "one that she could learn in half an hour. But, no, it won't do. The woman might queer the performance, and I should be the laughingstock of the profession for the next year." "She's not as bad as all that," said Al. "She has appeared in amateur performances here and made a success. Better see her, Mr. Wattles. I know she'll be tickled to death with the idea. You'll be in plenty of time to get a big ad. in this afternoon's _Herald_, and you'll have the biggest house of the season." The manager brought his fist down on the table by his side, and said: "By jingo, boy, I will do it! Lots of money has been made out of stage-struck society women, and perhaps I may come in for a little of it." "You'll come in for a lot of it to-night, sir, if you just follow my advice. And now I'll show you the way to the mayor's house." "Wait a minute. You said this amateur racket was only a part of your scheme; what is the rest of it?" "Souvenirs. This town is wild on souvenirs. The 'Crack of Doom' Company give hand-painted fans to-night. Why don't you go one better, and announce that every lady attending your performance will receive a heavily plated silver souvenir spoon?" "But where the mischief could I get the spoons?" "I'll provide them." "You?" "Certainly." "But where are you going to get them?" "I've got them. You see, sir, I am a sort of speculator. I attend auction sales and that sort of thing, and if I see a big bargain I take advantage of it. It's better than clerking at five dollars a week. A few days ago I struck a bankrupt sale in New York, and bought a lot of plated spoons at 'way below cost. I meant to sell them to the stores here, but I'll let you have them at just what they cost me--you can afford to give them away if you buy them at that price--and there will be plenty to go round." Mr. Wattles surveyed his companion in amused wonder. "Well, you are a queer sort of lad," he said. "You seem to have a pretty old head on those young shoulders of yours!" "I think I have enough to look out for number one, sir." "I should say you did. I should like to know more of you." "You will, sir, when I become your advance agent." "Well, we'll see all about that. And now I'd better be off for the home of the stage-struck mayoress. Meet me in half an hour." "I'll be here, sir." As the manager walked away, he muttered: "I'm afraid I'm going on a fool's errand. Confound it! I believe that young rascal has hypnotized me. But, after all, I can't afford to neglect the chance. The treasury is pretty low, and if this scheme doesn't work there may be trouble on salary day. I'll do my best to get this woman to play, and I guess I shall succeed; people used to say that Gus Wattles was the champion jollier, and I don't think he has lost his powers yet." Al was doing a little soliloquizing, too.