"Didn't she ask for _my_ autograph?" asked Mr. Montgomery, with a twinge of professional jealousy. "She said she was going to ask you for it." "I shall be glad to gratify her," said Montgomery, condescendingly. "I am often asked for an autograph." "That was my first application," said Dean smiling. "You are not as old as I. Long before you are, your autograph will be in demand." For three weeks the combination continued to give entertainments, arranging from two to three a week. They did not again meet with the success which had greeted them at Granville, but in almost every case they made expenses, and a fair sum besides. At the end of this time, each of the partners found himself possessed of about forty dollars. At the close of a concert at a small town in Missouri, on returning to the hotel, Mr. Montgomery chanced to take up a copy of the New York _Herald_ in the office. He ran over the advertisements on the first page, including the "Personals," when all at once his color changed, and he looked agitated. "What's the matter, Mr. Montgomery?" asked Dean. "Bad news, my boy!" said the actor sadly. "Look at that!" Dean read the following among the personals: CECIL MONTGOMERY, JR. Come home at once! Your mother is very sick. "My poor old mother!" said the actor feelingly. "She may be dead by this time. Why couldn't I have seen this notice before?" "What is the date of the paper?" asked Dean. "It is five days old." "I suppose you will go at once." "Yes, I must. I never would forgive myself if I did not hurry home on the chance of seeing the dear old mother once more." "You are right, Mr. Montgomery. I would do the same if I were fortunate enough to have a mother living." "Of course that ends our partnership for the present. Will you go home with me, Dean?" Dean shook his head. "No, I have nothing to go home to. It would take all my money, and there would be nothing for me to do in Waterford." "But you can't give entertainments alone." "I can make my living somehow. I have forty dollars, and that would last me some time even if I got nothing to do." When Dean bade his companion good-bye at the station the next morning, and turned away, a forlorn feeling came over him, and he felt tempted to take the next train East himself. But the thought of going back to Waterford as poor as he started, and with no prospect of employment, braced him up, and he resolved to push on westward and take his chances. He returned to the hotel, and sat down to consider his plans. There a pleasant surprise awaited him. "There's a gentleman to see you, Mr. Dunham," said the clerk. "Where is he?" asked Dean. "He went out to make a call in the village but will be back in fifteen minutes. This is his card." Dean took the card in his hand, and read the name SAMUEL GUNNISON. "Any acquaintance of yours?" asked the clerk. "No; I never heard the name." "I think he wants you to play to-morrow evening. He lives in the next town, Carterville."