Harry rose and surveyed the stranger in some surprise. He had long hair, of a reddish yellow, with an abundant beard of the same hue. His suit of worn black fitted him poorly, but Dr. Brown evidently was not a devotee of dress. No tailor could ever point to him, and say with pride: “That man’s clothes were made at my shop.” “Do I speak to Mr. Harry Vane, the young vocalist?” asked the stranger, with a deferential smile. “That’s my name,” answered our hero. “You are alone?” “Yes, sir,” said Harry, a little puzzled. “It is well. I will come to business at once. You have probably heard of me, eh?” “Probably I have, but I do not remember names well.” “The name of Mendelssohn Brown, is pretty well known, I flatter myself,” said the visitor, complacently. “To be brief--I heard you sing last evening, and was much pleased with your rendition of the various selections.” Harry bowed. “I am about to form a juvenile Pinafore company, and would like to have you take the leading part. You would make an excellent _Admiral_. I propose to take my opera company all over the United States. I should be willing to pay you, as the star performer, twenty-five dollars a week.” Harry opened his eyes in amazement. “Do you think me capable of singing in opera?” he asked. “Yes, after being trained by your humble servant. What do you say?” “I thank you for your flattering offer, Dr. Brown, but I don’t feel at liberty to leave Professor Hemenway.” The doctor frowned. “Let me tell you, you stand in your own light, Mr. Vane,” he said, impatiently. “There is some difference between a common juggler, like the Magician of Madagascar,”--the doctor laughed ironically--“and a well-known musical director, who could make you famous. Does Hemenway pay you as much as I offer?” “No, sir.” “I thought so. Then how can you hesitate?” “We are about to make an Australian tour,” answered Harry, “and, apart from all other considerations, I am glad to have a chance to travel.” “Couldn’t you put it off?” “No, sir.” “Then,” said Dr. Brown, rather crestfallen, “I can only bid you good-morning. I think you are making a mistake.” “Perhaps, after I return from Australia, I might be ready to accept your offer.” “It will be too late,” said the doctor, gloomily. “Twenty-five dollars a week is large pay,” thought Harry, “but I don’t believe I should ever get it. Dr. Brown doesn’t look much like a capitalist.” Half an hour later Professor Hemenway entered the hotel. “Well, my boy,” he said, “the die is cast! Next Saturday we sail from Long Wharf, bound for Australia.” “But professor, I have just had an offer of twenty-five dollars a week to sing in Pinafore.” “And have accepted!” exclaimed the magician in dismay. “No; I respectfully declined. I would rather go with you.” “You shan’t regret it, Harry!” said the professor, relieved. “If I am prosperous, you shall share in my prosperity.” “Thank you, professor; I am sure of that. What is the name of our vessel?”