of a voice has she--a singing voice, I mean?"

"That depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Well, you see, if she is going to sing in girls' duds, she's a
contralto; but then, if she has to do her stunt in boys' clothes, she is
a female barytone."

"Oh, she knows a trick or two," said Handy, smiling. "She must have
traveled some."

"You bet. She's a traveler for fair. She will go anywhere, and she's at
home wherever she lands. She has one trunk in Chicago, another in
Cincinnati, a valise in Buffalo, a grip in St. Louis, and other ventures
she has in safe-keeping for her elsewhere. Her parents live in
Chillicothe. She has a brother in Frisco, an aunt in New Orleans, an
Uncle in Boston, an----"

"Hold, for pity sake!" interrupted Handy. "Let up! I don't want to have
a geographical inventory of the girl's parents, relatives, and personal
effects to ascertain what she can do histrionically."

"Well," replied Smith, somewhat nettled, "you can make up your mind she
has wide experience."

"I should say so. With trunks and relatives waiting for her like open
dates all over the country in most of the big cities, I guess Gotown
won't scare her. There is one point, however, I can put you wise on--she
will leave no trunk behind her in Gotown."

"You never can tell in advance, Handy; you were always optimistic. Why
can't she, if she has a fad in that direction?"

"Simply, my friend, because there ain't a hotel in the place, that's
why."

"What!" cried Smith, in amazement, "no liquor stores in Gotown?"

"I didn't say that. I said there were no hotels."

"What's the difference? Don't you know there are no saloons in New York
now? They are all hotels. The law is strict on that score, and if Gotown
is regulated on the same plan and there are no hotels, I'm beginning to
have my doubts. Say, old man, this is no prohibition colony you're
steering us up against, eh?"

Handy looked at Smith in mild surprise and without moving a muscle of
his face; but there was a quiet meaning in his eye that spoke more
forcibly than mere words. At length he broke the silence.

"Smith, I'm afraid you are not well. Get thee to bed. Rest your
altogether too active brain. The Pennsylvania air is a little too much
for you. I can get along without further assistance. Good-night! See me
in the morning."

CHAPTER XXIII

"All the world's a stage and all the men and women merely players."
--AS YOU LIKE IT.

Handy and Smith parted