e
heresy he left them at home, with a thorough understanding that he was
quite justified in his new venture; though next morning, when he
confided the fact to Johnson, that worthy, with a sigh, presented him
with an appropriate missive from among those in the gray envelopes
left in his care by the late John Burnit. It was inscribed:

_To My Son Robert, Upon His Deciding to Back a Theatrical
Venture_

"Sooner or later, every man thinks it would be a fine thing to
run a show, and the earlier in life it happens the sooner a
man will have it out of his system. I tried it once myself,
and I know. So good luck to you, my boy, and here's hoping
that you don't get stung too badly."

CHAPTER XX

STILL WITH THE RELUCTANT CONSENT OF AGNES, BOBBY INVESTS IN THE FINE
ARTS

That week's "season of grand opera" was an unqualified success,
following closely the lines laid down by the experienced Mr. Spratt.
Caravaggio and Ricardo and Philippi and Villenauve became household
words, after the Monday night performance of _Carmen_, and for the
balance of the week shining carriages rolled up to the entrance of the
Orpheum, disgorging load after load of high-hatted gentlemen and
long-plumed ladies. Before the end of the engagement it was definitely
known that Bobby's investment would yield a profit, even deducting for
the days of idleness during which he had been compelled to support the
rehearsing company. The powers of darkness thereupon set vigorously to
work upon him to carry the company on through the rest of its season.

It was then that the storm broke. Against his going further with the
company Agnes Elliston interposed an objection so decided and so
unflattering that the _entente cordiale_ at the Elliston home was
strained dangerously near to the breaking point, and in this she was
aided and abetted by Aunt Constance, who ridiculed him, and by Uncle
Dan Elliston, who took him confidentially for a grave and hardheaded
remonstrance. Chalmers, Johnson, and even Applerod wrestled with him
in spirit; his friends at the Idlers' Club "guyed" him unmercifully,
and even Biff Bates, though his support was earnestly sought by the
Signorina Caravaggio, also counseled him roughly against it, and
through it all Bobby was made to feel that he was a small boy who had
proposed to eat a peck of green apples and then go in swimming in
dog-days. Another note from his father, handed to him by the faithful
an