The hotel man began to get excited. "What the hell have I got to do with selling tickets? If you don't carry your own tickets you're a purty cheap concern. I don't propose to be brow-beaten by you. If you don't like the place the road runs both ways out of it." And he walked away from the minstrel man in high dudgeon. Seats were borrowed from the Court House, the Methodist Church, the hotel, anywhere they could be secured. A half dozen carpenters were working on the improvised stage until the minute the curtain went up. The dining room of the hotel was converted into a dressing room. After supper was served the minstrel trunks were placed in the dining room. Pickles, crackers, ginger snaps, etc., were all in place on the table for an early morning breakfast. The minstrels ate the tables bare, ransacked cupboards and sideboards in kitchen and dining room, feasting and frolicking during the performance. The bar adjoined the dining room. The minstrels blackened and in their stage attire, they said to the peg-legged barkeeper: "These are on me; I've got on my other clothes; I'll settle after the show." The dressing, or dining room, was about twenty yards from the stage of the hall. As there was no stage door, (only a front door in the hall), the minstrel men were obliged to enter by a window. The sash taken out, leaned against the wall. In the piano chorus of a most pathetic ballad, both window sashes fell over. The crashing glass brought the entire audience to their feet. The hall owner stepped over the low footlights onto the stage, brushing the semi-circle of surprised minstrels to one side. Disappearing behind the curtain, he reappeared in an instant, bearing in either hand a window sash with shattered bits of glass sticking here and there. Crossing the stage, at the instant the interlocutor announced the singing of the reigning song success, "There's a Light in the Window for You," placing the sash in front of the stage, he seated himself. The stage, or platform, was very low. The sash stuck up several inches above the footlights. Harry Bulger, in one of his dances purposely kicked them over again. Down they fell among the musicians. Mr. Hall-owner was again to the rescue, this time triumphantly bearing the sash to the rear of the hall. Alfred looked after the front of the house as well as his stage work. Remaining at the door until he had barely time to make up, he requested the hall owner to take tickets until he returned, and not to permit any to enter without tickets.