ights. Harry Bulger, in one of his dances purposely
kicked them over again. Down they fell among the musicians. Mr.
Hall-owner was again to the rescue, this time triumphantly bearing the
sash to the rear of the hall.

Alfred looked after the front of the house as well as his stage work.
Remaining at the door until he had barely time to make up, he requested
the hall owner to take tickets until he returned, and not to permit any
to enter without tickets.

The hall man promised not to permit any to enter without tickets. Alfred
sang a song, "Hello, Baby, Here's Your Daddy," the title of it. The
dozen end men, during the chorus, drew from under their chairs large
dolls with blackened faces. Each burlesqued a person handling a baby
awkwardly. As Alfred took his seat his eyes went anxiously to the door.
It was closed. No one entered all the while he was on the stage. At the
end of the baby song, it was customary for Alfred to cast a big ugly
doll, with the words "Here's Your Daddy," into the audience. One of the
company dudishly attired was seated in the audience to catch the doll,
leave the house, pretending to be greatly embarrassed. The audience
usually howled. The baby was flung in the direction of the member of the
company. Unfortunately, it had to pass over the head of the manager of
the hall. Jumping up, reaching into the air much as an expert baseball
player does in pulling down a hot one, he pulled the baby down. Holding
it upside down, he flung it towards Alfred. Anxious to save the scene,
with all his force Alfred flung it towards the young man of the company,
who stood waiting to play his part. But again the hall man jumped
between and caught the baby. By one foot he swung it about his head a
couple of times; the head and arms of the rag doll flew towards Alfred,
striking the stage at his feet. The man holding the legs and all that
part of the baby below the belt, waved it aloft. Meanwhile the audience
was encouraging him with shouts of approval.

Concluding his stage work, hastening towards the door, not even delaying
to change his costume or remove the black from his face, he vigorously
beckoned the hall man to him. Walking towards the door, Alfred poured
forth a torrent of peevish abuse:

"Why, you wrote me all sorts of letters that people were crazy mad for a
minstrel show and there's not fifty dollars in the house."

The landlord doubted this statement. "Not fifty dollars in the house,
huh? Why, there's