him. . . ."

The waiters burst out laughing, while the barmaid banged her metal
tray against the counter.

"Wicek!" called someone from the entrance.

"At your service, Mr. Manager."

"Are they all here for the rehearsal?"

"Oh! They'll all be here without fail!" he answered, laughing
roguishly.

"Did you notify them? . . . Did you go to them with the circular?"

"Yes, they all signed it."

"Did you take the play-bill to the director?"

"The director was still behind the scenes: he was lying in bed and
gazing at his toes."

"You should have given it to his wife."

"But Mrs. Directress was in the midst of a tussle with her children;
it was a little too noisy there."

"You will go with this letter to Comely Street. . . . Do you know
where it is?"

"A few times over, 'She's quite a respectable dame,' as a certain
man in the front row said of Miss Nicolette the other day."

"You will take this, wait for an answer, and come right back."

"But Mr. Manager, will I get something for going?"

"Didn't I give you something on account only last night?"

"Oh . . . only a copper! I spent it for beer and sardines, paid the
balance of my rent, gave my shoemaker a deposit for a new pair of
shoes, and now I'm dead broke!"

"You're a monkey! Here, take this . . . ."

"Blessed are the hands that dispense forty-cent pieces!" he cried
with a comical grimace, shuffled his shoes, and ran out.

"Set the stage for the rehearsal!" called the manager, seating
himself on the veranda.

The members of the company assembled slowly. They greeted each other
in silence and scattered over the garden.

"Dobek," called the stage-manager to a tall man who was making
straight for the buffet. "You guzzle from morn till night, and at
the rehearsals I cannot hear a word you say. . . . Your prompting
isn't worth a bean!"

"Mr. Manager, I had a bad dream that ran something like this:
Night . . . a well . . . I stumbled and fell into it . . . I was
frozen stiff with fear . . . I called for help . . . no help was
near . . . splash! . . . and I was up to my neck in water. . . .
Brr! . . . I still feel so cold that nothing will warm me."

"Oh, hang your dreams! You drink from morn till night."

"That's because I can't drink like others: from night till morn.
Brr! I feel so beastly chilled!"

"I'll order some hot tea for you."

"Thank you, I'm quite well Mr. Topolski, and use herbs only when I'm
sick. Must, the extracted juice, the