of that theatrical company had expected, they heard many
criticisms on the performance they had given, and it seemed as though
all of their patrons bestowed more time on giving them advice for
future guidance than on their regular business. Some advised that
Saturday evening performances be given each week, assuring the firm of
their support during the entire season. Others were so unkind as to
advise that a small theatre be built for Mopsey, where he could take
all the parts himself, and very many had suggestions to give Dickey as
to the kind of armor he should wear the next time he played the part
of Macbeth.

Some of this advice Dickey received in a kindly spirit, assuring his
friends of his determination never to play a part again that required
any such uncomfortable costume; but to others he displayed
considerable ill-feeling, and was so unwise as to be angry, when he
should have remembered that as the public's servant, in the capacity
of an actor, he was obliged to hear their criticisms. But the partners
were made happy by knowing that, in the majority of individual cases
they heard of, their performance had given satisfaction, and that if
they could only get a new play, since they had exhausted all of
Shakespeare's in one evening, they might feel assured of considerable
patronage again.

Having been told of this at an early hour in the morning, Mopsey set
about the task of writing, or thinking of, another play immediately;
and it was said by those who watched him closely that he drove away at
least four customers that forenoon by his seeming discourtesy, while
he was trying to decide how a new play could be arranged.

At eleven o'clock, agreeably to the appointment made by Ben, all the
partners, except Paul, met at Mrs. Green's fruit-stand, wondering not
a little as to why they had been summoned. Ben was there, almost
bursting with importance; and when he found that all, including Mrs.
Green and Nelly, were ready to listen to him, he said, as if he were
again on the stage:

"I've got a big plan, an' I hope you'll all think jest the same about
it that I do. You know how bad Polly feels 'cause he can't git back to
his folks, for you see how he moped round yesterday when we was all
feelin' so good. Now, I jest come from a place where they sell
railroad tickets, an' I found out that a little feller like him can
get to Chicager for fourteen dollars."

"It won't be long before he gets that much, if nothin' happe