He was interrupted by hearing his name called. He rose mechanically, and followed the boy into a very large and ornate office. A fat Jewish man, in loud clothes, a brown derby hat, and a cigar, sat at a desk, dictating. "H'are ye?" he ejaculated as Jarvis entered. He went on dictating and smoking, until Jarvis finally interrupted him, saying he wanted to see the manager. The fat man glared at him. "Sit down until I get through!" he shouted. "I'm the manager." Jarvis took a chair and looked at the man closely. What would such a creature find in his play, with its roots in a modern condition, no more grasped by this man than by Professor Parkhurst? The absurdity of the idea struck Jarvis so forcibly that he laughed out loud. "Let's have it, if it's any good," said the fat man. "I beg your pardon," Jarvis replied. The manager dismissed the stenographer, took up Jarvis's card, looked at it, and then at his victim. "Jarvis Jocelyn," he read. "Good stage name. What's your line, Jarvis?" [Illustration: "WELL, BELIEVE ME, THAT HIGH-BROW STUFF IS ON THE TOBOGGAN."] "I've come to see you about a play." "Oh, you're a writer? What have you done?" "Several plays, and some poetry." "Nix on the poetry. Who brought out the plays?" "Nobody yet. I am just beginning to offer them." "What sort of stuff is it?" "It's a dramatic handling of the feminist movement." "What's that?" "The emancipation of woman." "I hadn't heard about it. Is your stuff funny?" "No. It is a serious presentation of an unique revolution----" "Well, believe me, that high-brow stuff is on the toboggan. I knew it couldn't last. I gave it to them when they demanded it, but I am cutting it out now. Haven't you got a good melodrama, or a funny show?" "I have not," superbly. "Say, do you know any Jews? I got a great idea for a Jew play that would take like the measles if some fellow would work it up. Pile of money in it." Jarvis rose, furious. "It is so apparent that we have nothing to say to each other that I'll bid you good morning." "If you fellows who come in here from the country to run Broadway could put _yourselves_ in a show, it would be the scream of the town," said the fat man in Jarvis's wake. "I'd rather starve than endure a pig like you!" cried Jarvis, as he fled.