Palmer concluded his tirade by flinging a hammer on the floor and declaring his belief that the mistakes were the result of a deliberate attempt upon the part of the perpetrator to ruin him. "But I will not be driven away from this work of my life by conspirators." Jake had but a limited understanding of Palmer's language, yet sufficient of what had been said sifted through his mind to convince him that Palmer had made strong charges against him. Jake, in a tone of voice that would have convinced anyone more reasonable than Palmer, of his sorrow, inquired: "Vot I tid?" "Vot I tid?" repeated Palmer, imitating Jake. "Vot I tid? Ha! Ha! What didn't you do? From the night we opened it's been one round of breaks and blunders upon your part." Jake, in open-eyed surprise, repeated: "Breaks? Breaks? Breaks? Vot I breaks?" Palmer never ceased talking nor noticed Jake's questions. Pointing at Jake, he said: "First you assumed the part of Christian, the most important character to be impersonated. Every schoolboy or girl knows the Christian makes a pilgrimage beginning at the City of Destruction, from which he flees to the Celestial City. He carries a burden, of which he is relieved at the proper time. He is supposed to encounter all sorts of hardships and avoid pitfalls of danger, coming out triumphant at the end of his journey. I ordered you to read the book. Alfred read it and is familiar with every detail; you know nothing, positively nothing." "Vot I tid?" again demanded Jake, a bit sternly. "Vot you tid?" and Palmer pretended to tear his hair. "The first night, the first scene, by holding the book you were supposed to be reading, down by your knees, gaping at the audience like a baboon. You rolled over on the floor in the Slough of Despond like a hog wallowing; you throwed your burden in the Slough, then walked in the pond after it. The pond you was supposed to be sinking into, drowning, you walked over it as you would over a lawn or carpeted room, not sinking one inch in it. You gathered up Christian's burden. Instead of replacing it on your back you took it under your arm like a basket; instead of walking as you were directed, towards the Wicket Gate, the Shining Light, you steered straight into the bowels of Hell. Not being satisfied with going to Hell yourself, you so arrange this lift, this platform that, at the very climax of the most beautiful scene in the marvelous exhibition, you send the whole panorama down to the lower story of the building, thus conveying to the audience the idea that we are burlesquing Pilgrim's Progress. Instead of steering for Heaven, steering for Hell! Bah! Every last one in that audience will leave this building with the idea that the entire panorama went to Hell." Then in an injured, pleading tone, as if scared, Palmer continued: "If this goes ahead of us it will surely ruin our business. I will sell my interest in this show for one-half of what I'd taken yesterday." All this was acting.