en to pay railroad fares for," mused Bobby, a little
startled as the magnitude of the demand began to dawn upon him. "Then
there's the music-hall, advertising, printing and I suppose a score of
other incidentals. You need quite a pile of money. However, I'll go
down to the club at lunch time and see what I can do for you."

"I knew you would the minute I looked at you," said the Signorina
confidently, which was a compliment or not, the way one looked at it.
"But, say; I've got a better scheme than that, one that will let you
make a little money instead of contributing. I understand the Orpheum
has next week dark, through yesterday's failure of The Married
Bachelor Comedy Company. Why don't you get the Orpheum for us and back
our show for the week? We have twelve operas in our repertoire. The
scenery and props are very poor, the costumes are only half-way decent
and the chorus is the rattiest-looking lot you ever saw in your life;
but they can sing. They went into the discard on account of their
faces, poor things. Suppose you come over and have a look. They'd melt
you to tears."

"That won't be necessary," hastily objected Bobby; "but I'll meet a
lot of the fellows at lunch, and afterward I'll let you know."

"After lunch!" exclaimed the Signorina with a most expressive placing
of her hands over her belt, whereat the Herr Professor and Der Grosse
Tenore both turned most wistfully to Bobby to see what effect this
weighty plea might have upon him. "Lunch!" she repeated. "If you would
carry a fork-full of steaming spaghetti into the Hotel Larken at this
minute you'd start a riot. Why, Mr. Burnit, if you're going to do
anything for us you've got to get into action, because we've been up
since seven and we still want our breakfasts."

"Breakfast!" exclaimed Bobby, looking hastily at his watch. It was now
eleven-thirty. "Come on; we'll go right over to the Larken, wherever
that may be," and he exhibited as much sudden haste as if he had seen
seventy people actually starving before his very eyes.

Just as the quartette stepped out of the office, Biff Bates, just
coming in, bustled up to Bobby with:

"Can I see you just a minute, Bobby? Kid Mills is coming around to my
place this afternoon."

"Haven't time just now, Biff," said Bobby; "but jump into the machine
with us and I'll do the 'chauffing.' That will make room for all of
us. We can talk on the way to the Hotel Larken. Do you know where it
is?"

"Me?" scorned Bi