seated herself
comfortably upon the edge of Bobby's desk and swung one large but
shapely foot while she explained matters.

"It's like this, Mr. Burnit," she confidently began: "when that
dried-up little heathen, Matteo, who tried to run the Neapolitan Grand
Opera Company with stage money, got us this far on a tour that is a
disgrace to the profession, he had a sudden notion that he needed
ocean air; so he took what few little dollars were in the treasury and
hopped right on into New York.

"Here we are, then, at the place we were merely 'to make connections,'
two hundred miles from our next booking and without enough money among
us to buy a postage stamp. We haven't seen a cent of salary for six
weeks, and the only thing we can do is to seize the props and scenery
and costumes, see if they can be sold, and disband, unless somebody
gallops to the rescue in a hurry. Professor Fruehlingsvogel happened to
know another Dutchman here who conducts an orchestra at the Orpheum,
and he sent us to you. He said you knew all the swell set and could
start a benefit going if anybody in town could."

"Yes," said Bobby, smiling; "Schmirdonner telephoned me just a few
minutes ago that the Herr Professor Fruehlingsvogel would be up to see
me, and asked me to do what I could. How many of you are there?"

"Seventy-three," promptly returned Signorina Caravaggio, "and all
hungry. Forty singers and an orchestra of thirty--seventy--besides
props and the stage manager and Herr Fruehlingsvogel, who is the
musical director."

"Where are you stopping?" asked Bobby, aghast at the size of the
contract that was offered him.

"We're not," laughed the great Italian songstress. "We all went up and
registered at a fourth-rate place they call the Hotel Larken, but
that's as far as we got, for we were told before the ink was dry that
we'd have to come across before we got a single biscuit; so there they
are, scattered about the S. R. O. parts of that little two-by-twice
hotel, waiting for little me to trot out and find an angel. Are you
it?"

"I can't really promise what I can do," hesitated Bobby, who had never
been able to refuse assistance where it seemed to be needed; "but I'll
run down to the club and see some of the boys about getting up a
subscription concert for you. How much help will you need?"

"Enough to land us on little old Manhattan Island."

"And there are over seventy of you to feed and take care of for, say,
three days, and th