accommodating
with Jimmy. He meant to keep an eye on his wife:

"A married woman, on the stage, alone! I won't have any more of that!"

He hit upon a contrivance to be always with her: he would be her "comic."
It was a new system which had come into fashion: the most plastic
performances spoiled by the juxtaposition of their caricatures; acrobats,
Olympian gods, parodied by a merry-andrew in a ridiculous coat: just as
though Nunkie Fuchs, for instance, had taken it into his head to appear
with his Three Graces and mimic their tricks, kicking about at the end of
a wire with his fat, fatherly paunch and his round, silly face.

And Trampy, riding behind Lily, would simply give a parody of her tricks;
it meant little work to him and was as good a way as another of going on
the stage with her and establishing his title to _her_ work and _her_
salary....

And off they went again, with the basket trunk, and the bikes; and on the
stage, every night, Lily, looking like a goddess, and Trampy, dressed in
rags, went through their tricks and smiled ... applause for her, always;
none for him, ever. Lily wore a very sad look in consequence, when they
returned to the wings: a poor little wife, so sorry for her husband; but
she triumphed at the bottom of her heart, while Trampy turned green with
spite. He was furious with Lily: tried to make her fall, pushed her in
turning; but Lily was too clever and sat as firmly on her bike as Ave
Maria walked her slack-wire, when the brother used to shake it on purpose,
whip in hand and snarling as if to bite.

Oh, if Lily had not made efforts to be a good little wife! Trampy was
becoming unbearable. She posed as the poor little thing, despised,
deceived and betrayed by her husband; she loved to hear people tell her
so, called them to witness and continued, but without result, to make
inquiries about Ave Maria.

And there were everlasting scenes at home. Lily had enough of it, more
than enough of it! She had even decided to go away, to return to London;
but, worn out with worry, she had to take to her bed, with a high fever.
It was the finishing stroke: no work,--all the savings gone....

Trampy, fortunately, found an engagement:

"It's all right, the neighbors will look after you," he said, as he took
his leave. "A man's duty is to see that his wife doesn't starve, eh,
darling? I'm going to make money, too, and I'll bring you heaps when I
come back; and I'll send you some. That's the sort o