from the bottom of their hearts; the bosses, the profs, the
managers, the Pas, the Mas treated him, in their own minds, as a lucky
dog, all the more inasmuch as Trampy was not uppish and gladly stood
drinks, while his wife, "Miss Lily," made money for him with her breakneck
tricks. It was much smarter than doing it for one's self: the great thing
was to have a "girl" like that! Trampy was having his revenge: he had been
laughed at; he now had the laugh on them! and Trampy knew glorious times,
in the _Biergarten_, or lounging at street-corners, near the stage-door,
chaffing the girls, hat cocked back, hands deep in his pockets, a cigar
stuck between his teeth. He told the story of his life, not without pride;
said that he must write it one day, sell it to _The New York Standard_ for
a thousand dollars. The girls _he'd_ had: whew! His love adventures: all
over the world, by Jove! And his marriage with Lily Clifton, the New
Zealander on Wheels, a dear little wife, so gentle, so obedient. No, he
had no reason to complain of his life. He would write it, mark his words!
To say nothing of a scheme he had in mind:

"Just you wait and see! It's a trick to make a millionaire of you or break
your neck."

"Will you make Miss Lily do it?"

"I'll see, I'll think it over," said Trampy, in a lordly tone.

The directors, the stage-managers took no notice of him; but, among the
artistes, Trampy Wheel-Pad was some one, he enjoyed his leisure, recovered
his self-assurance: if, in addition, he could have destroyed the legend of
the whippings, he would have been perfectly happy. He would turn the
conversation on the subject of smackings in the music-hall generally, in
the hope of hearing them contradicted or made little of; but it was no
use; every one believed in them: all, boys and girls, even the most
spoiled, quoted facts: blows which they had received! my! blows hard
enough to split the front of a music-hall from top to bottom! The nation
with the painted faces, the blue-chins seemed to vie with one another as
to who had been most through the mill.

"You're exaggerating," said Trampy. "It may be true, to a certain extent,
in your case. But, Miss Lily, for instance: do you mean to say you believe
all she tells?"

"Oh, quite!" said two Roofer girls who were there.

They had seen Lily practising. And they knew what it meant. They had had
their share, too: old Roofer, gee! And Lily had done quite right to run
away from her whippings.