all right with you in the morning, sir," replied Fogg
indignantly, "and I wouldn't have your contemptible Dutch band to play
for me now under any circumstances. Please call the people for the first
act, Mr. Handy. I'll show you. We'll play the piece without your music."

"And you'll play it without costumes, too," interposed Mr. Draper,
"unless I get my money."

"An' begor, yez'll play it wid only sky borders and wings, iv I'm goin'
to get left," yelled the stage carpenter. "Murphy, run off thim flats."

By this time poor Fogg was nearly out of his mind. Surrounded by a
number of excited creditors behind the curtain, and frightened by an
uproarious, turbulent, and noisy audience in front, the unfortunate
fellow recognized in his bewildered condition that he would have to go
before the curtain and dismiss the public. But what explanation could he
offer? His friends were there to witness his humiliation. He wrung his
hands in despair, wished he had never been born, and mentally resolved
never again to accept the tender of a benefit. Handy watched him
intently, and in his heart felt genuine sorrow for the sad predicament
in which the poor fellow had placed himself. Touching Smith on the
shoulder, he walked back on the stage, his friend following him.

"Smith, this is a hard case. It makes me feel sad, and we must manage
somehow or other to get the unfortunate devil out of the hole. This is
the worst ever. Do as I tell you, but be careful and let no one get on
to you. You noticed that small bottle of red ink on the prompt stand.
Get it quietly, and let no one see what you are at. Be very careful. We
must devise some way of pulling him through. It's a big risk, but I'll
take it. That's all. Go now and take your cue from me."

Things were growing from bad to worse on the stage, and the commotion
and disorder in front of the curtain were increasing. Handy moved down
among the excited crowd that surrounded Fogg, and got close to him.
Smith, after exchanging a knowing glance with Handy, also edged his way
into the group.

"Great Heavens! Fogg, my dear fellow!" suddenly exclaimed Handy, seizing
him in an alarmed manner, "are you ill? What's the matter?" Then in a
hasty whisper he said: "Act now, d----n you! if you never acted before.
Go off in a fit, drop and leave the rest to me."

"Oh, nothing, nothing!" replied Fogg, with a strange stare. Then looking
wildly about him, he uttered a weird scream and fell in a heap on the