by Fred Thorpe
CHAPTER VI.
ANOTHER ROCK AHEAD.
Mr. Anderson accompanied Al to the door.
"I would have granted almost any other request you might have made withmore willingness," he said. "I have a strongly rooted objection to mywife appearing on the stage."
"I am very sorry, sir," said Al. "But, perhaps, as Mrs. Anderson says,you will feel differently when you see her."
"I doubt it very much. Now, tell me, why did you insist upon thissacrifice on my part? What is it to you whether my wife appears or not?"
"I haven't time to tell you now, sir," the boy replied. "I must returnto the theater at once."
"Can you call at my office, at the City Hall, to-morrow?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do so, then, at, say, ten in the morning. I should like to have a talkwith you; I want to know more of you."
"I will be there, Mr. Anderson. Good-evening, sir."
"Good-evening, my lad."
As Al hurried along to take the good news to Mr. Wattles, he muttered:
"Well, I didn't think I had so much cheek. I wouldn't have insisted uponMrs. Anderson's appearing if there had really been any harm in it, butI'm sure it can't damage her or her husband much. Besides, she gave herpromise, and she ought to keep it."
As the boy hurried through the long corridor leading to the manager'soffice, his attention was attracted by the sound of loud and excitedvoices, and, listening, he heard a portion of the conversation takingplace between Mr. Wattles and his ex-advance agent. As we have seen, hereached the office just in time to see Farley standing over the managerwith uplifted knife, and to interfere.
The advance agent proved himself a coward, for the weapon dropped fromhis fingers, and, throwing up his hands, he cried:
"Don't shoot! Mercy, mercy!"
Mr. Wattles picked up the knife.
"Allston," he said, "go for a policeman."
As Al turned to leave the room, Farley cried, imploringly:
"Wait! Wattles, old man, I didn't know what I was doing. The fact is, Ihave been drinking pretty hard lately, but I shall be all right in a dayor two."
"You don't expect to get back in my employ again, do you?" the managerasked, sternly.
"No, no, I don't. All I ask is that you will not utterly ruin all mychances for life by having me arrested. Things look bad enough for mewithout that."
"Very well, Farley, I'll let you off this time, but I warn you to keepout of my way in the future."
"If I keep straight and show you that I am at my best we may do businesstogether again, eh, Wattles?"
"No, sir; I shall never have anything more to do with you."
"Perhaps you'll think better of that. You haven't had time to fill myplace yet."
"I've got a better man for your place than you ever were," said themanager.
"Who is he?" demanded Farley.
"There he stands;" and Mr. Wattles pointed to Al.
"That kid?" gasped Farley.
"That young gentleman," said the manager, with theatricalimpressiveness.
Farley stared at the boy a few moments without speaking; then, with apeculiar smile, he said:
"So you are an advance agent, are you, bub?"
"So it seems," replied Al, as coolly as he could.
"Well, you won't remain one long; I will see to that. Take my advice andquit the business before the temperature gets too high. See? Yes, Ithink you do. I don't propose----"
"Look here," interrupted Mr. Wattles, "I've had just about enough ofthis. Are you going to get out or are you not?"
Farley backed toward the door.
"I am," he said. "Ta, ta, Wattles! Ta, ta, my young friend! But we shallmeet again, and don't you forget, either of you, to paste that fact inyour hat."
And he swaggered out of the room.
"The impudent scoundrel!" exclaimed Mr. Wattles. "I let him off tooeasy. If I am not mistaken, we shall have more trouble with him."
"Never mind about him," interrupted Al. "Do you know that it is almosteight o'clock, Mr. Wattles?"
"Good gracious! So it is! And Mrs. Anderson----"
"It's all right."
"She will appear?"
"Sure."
The manager grasped his companion's hand.
"Allston," he said, "you are a wonder."
"That's just what you want for an advance agent, isn't it?" the boyasked, with a laugh.
"Yes. Did she come with you?"
"No, but she is probably here by this time."
"How did you do it?"
"I'll tell you some other time, sir."
"That's right; we have no time to waste in talk now. I'll go and see ifshe has arrived. I should be in a nice fix if she changed her mindagain."
"She won't, Mr. Wattles."
Scarcely hearing the last words, the manager rushed from the room.
"Well," mused Al, "if Mr. Wattles is a man of his word I am his advanceagent now. It will be my fault if I don't make the best of theopportunity. But it's dollars to doughnuts that I shall have troublewith that loafer, Farley. Well, I guess I can hold my own."
He was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Mr. Wattles.
"It's all right, my boy," laughed the manager.
"You haven't seen her yet?"
"No, but I've seen Perley, and he tells me she is here, and is dressingfor the part. He thinks that she is going to make a big hit."
"Of course she will," laughed Al; "she is the leader of society here,and it would be treason not to like her."
The manager smiled.
"You know something of the world," he said.
"Not as much as I would like to. But, seriously, sir, Mrs. Anderson isnot such a bad actress, and I shouldn't wonder if she did make a hit."
"She'll have to be a second Ristori, if she does in that part," grinnedMr. Wattles. "There's nothing to it; but, for all that, the woman whohas been playing it is wild because I have taken it away from her forone night."
"Have you explained the circumstances to her?"
"Have I? I've talked myself nearly deaf in doing so, but it was of nouse."
"She must be very thick-headed if she can't see how you are placed."
"My dear boy, a woman will never see anything she doesn't want to see.But never mind about all that. I don't care particularly whether thewoman is suited or not; I can fill her place at a few hours' notice. Andnow I must go and see how things are going. I have a good stage manager,but I have to do a lot of the work myself, for all that. And I mustacknowledge that I do feel a little nervous at letting an untrainedamateur appear in the piece without a rehearsal. Come with me, and we'llsee if everything is going smoothly."
Al followed the manager through the long passage way and out into adamp, dingy court, on the opposite side of which was a door bearing theinscription: "Stage Door. No Admittance."
Passing through the sacred portals, Mr. Wattles and Al stepped upon thestage.
Al had been "behind the scenes" before; the scene that met his eyes wasnot an entirely unfamiliar one, and he trod the boards with thenonchalant air of a veteran.
"Well, Sparkley, how does everything go?" asked the manager of ananxious-looking elderly man, whom the boy rightly guessed to be thestage manager.
"Badly enough," was the reply. "There's been a big row, and your societyamateur refuses to appear."
