"Shall I enter your name?" he asked of Philip.
"If you please."
This was the way Professor Riccabocca complied with his request: "Philipde Gray, the Wonderful Boy-musician."
He turned the book, so that the clerk could see the entries.
"We propose to give an entertainment in Wilkesville," he said.
"I am glad to hear it," said the clerk politely.
"After dinner I will consult you as to what steps to take. Is thereanything in the way of amusement going on in town this evening?"
"Yes, there is a concert, chiefly of home-talent, in Music Hall. Thereis nothing announced for to-morrow evening."
"Then we will fix upon to-morrow evening. It will give us more time toget out hand-bills, etc. Is there a printing-office in town?"
"Oh, yes, sir. We have a daily paper."
"Is the office near at hand?"
"Yes, sir. It is on the corner of the next street."
"That will do for the present. We will go up to our apartment. Willdinner be ready soon?"
"In half an hour."
Here the servant made his appearance, and the professor, with a wave ofhis hand, said:
"Lead on, Mr. de Gray! I will follow."
CHAPTER XXVI. A PROMISING PLAN.
They were shown into a front room, of good size, containing two beds.The servant handed them the key, and left them.
"This looks very comfortable, Mr. de Gray," said the professor, rubbinghis hands with satisfaction.
"Why do you call me Mr. de Gray?" asked Philip, thinking he had beenmisunderstood. "It is plain Gray, without any de."
"I am only using your professional name," answered the professor. "Don'tyou know people will think a great deal more of you if they suppose youto be a foreigner?"
Philip laughed.
"Is Lorenzo Riccabocca your true or professional name, professor?" heasked.
"Professional, of course. My real name--I impart it to you in thestrictest confidence--is Lemuel Jones. Think of it. How would that lookon a poster?"
"It would not be so impressive as the other."
"Of course not; and the public need to be impressed. I thank thee forthat word, Mr. de Gray. By the way, it's rather a pity I didn't give youa Spanish or Italian name."
"But I can't speak either language. It would be seen through at once."
"People wouldn't think of asking. You'd be safe enough. They willgenerally swallow all you choose to say."
They went down to dinner presently, and the professor--Philip could nothelp thinking--ate as if he were half-starved. He explained afterwardthat elocutionary effort taxes the strength severely, and makes heartyeating a necessity.
After dinner was over the professor said:
"Are you content, Mr. de Gray, to leave me to make the necessaryarrangements?"
"I should prefer that you would," said Philip, and he spoke sincerely."Probably you understand much better than I what needs to be done."
"'Tis well! Your confidence is well placed," said the professor, with awave of his hand. "Shall you remain in the hotel?"
"No, I think I will walk about the town and see a little of it. I havenever been here before."
Philip took a walk through the principal streets, surveying withcuriosity the principal building's, for, though there was nothingparticularly remarkable about them, he was a young traveler, to whomeverything was new. He could not help thinking of his late home, and inparticular of Frank Dunbar, his special friend, and he resolved duringthe afternoon to write a letter to Frank, apprising him of his luckthus far. He knew that Frank would feel anxious about him, and would bedelighted to hear of his success as a musician.
He went into a book-store and bought a sheet of paper and an envelope.
He had just completed his letter, when his partner entered thereading-room of the hotel with a brisk step.
"Mr. de Gray," he said, "I have made all necessary arrangements. I havehired the hall for to-morrow evening--five dollars--ordered some ticketsand posters at the printing-office, and secured a first-class noticein to-morrow morning's paper. Everybody in Wilkesville will know beforeto-morrow night that they will have the opportunity of attending afirst-class performance at the Music Hall."
"It seems to me the necessary expenses are considerable," said Philipuneasily.
"Of course they are; but what does that matter?"
"What is to be the price of tickets?"
"General admission, twenty-five cents; reserved seats, fifty cents, andchildren under twelve, fifteen cents. How does that strike you!"
"Will anyone be willing to pay fifty cents to hear us?" asked Philip.
"Fifty cents! It will be richly worth a dollar!" said the professorloftily.
"I suppose he knows best," thought Philip. "I hope all will come outright. If it does we can try the combination in other places."
CHAPTER XXVII. UNEXPECTED HONORS.
The next morning at breakfast, Professor Riccabocca handed Philip acopy of the Wilkesville Daily Bulletin. Pointing to a paragraph on theeditorial page, he said, in a tone of pride and satisfaction:
"Read that, Mr. de Gray."
It ran thus:
"We congratulate the citizens of Wilkesville on the remarkableentertainment which they will have an opportunity of enjoying thisevening at the Music Hall. Professor Lorenzo Riccabocca, whose fame asan elocutionist and dramatic reader has made his name a household wordthroughout Europe and America, will give some of his choice recitals andpersonations, assisted by Philip de Gray, the wonderful boy-musician,whose talent as a violin-player has been greeted with rapturous applausein all parts of the United States. It is universally acknowledgedthat no one of his age has ever equaled him. He, as well as ProfessorRiccabocca, will give but a limited series of entertainments in thiscountry, having received flattering inducements to cross the Atlantic,and appear professionally in London, Paris, and the chief cities of theContinent. Fifty cents is the pitiful sum for which our citizens willhave it put in their power to hear this wonderful combination of talent.This secures a reserved seat."
Philip read this notice with increasing amazement.
"What do you think of that, Mr. de Gray?" asked the professor gleefully."Won't that make Wilkesville open its eyes, eh?"
"It has made me open my eyes, professor," said Philip.
"Ha, ha!" said the professor, appearing amused.
"How soon are we to sail for Europe?" asked Philip, smiling.
"When Queen Victoria sends our passage-money," answered Riccabocca,laughing.
"I see that your name is a household word in Europe. Were you everthere?"
"Never."
"Then how can that be?"
"Mr. de Gray, your performances have been greeted with applause in allparts of the United States. How do you explain that?"
"I don't pretend to explain it. I wasn't aware that my name had everbeen heard of a hundred miles from here."
"It has not, but it will be. I have only been predicting a little.The paragraph isn't true now, but it will be some time, if we live andprosper."
"But I don't like to be looked upon as a humbug, professor," said Philipuneasily.
"You won't be. You are really a fine player, or I wouldn't consent toappear with you. The name of Riccabocca, Mr. de Gray, I may truthfullysay, is well known. I have appeared in the leading cities of America.They were particularly enthusiastic in Chicago," he added pensively."I wish I could find a paragraph from one of their leading papers,comparing my rendering of the soliloquy in 'Hamlet' to Edwin Booth's,rather to the disadvantage of that tragedian."
"I would like to read the notice," said Philip, who had very strongdoubts as to whether such a paragraph had ever appeared in print.
"You shall see it. It will turn up somewhere. I laid it aside carefully,for I confess, Mr. de Gray, it gratified me much. I have only one thingto regret: I should myself have gone on the stage, and essayed leadingtragic roles. It may not be too late now. What do you think?"
"I can tell better after I have heard you, professor," answered Philip.
"True, you can. Mr. de Gray," continued the professor, lowering hisvoice, "notice how much attention we are receiving from the guestsat the tables. They have doubtless read the notice of our eveningentertainment."
Philip looked round the room, which was of good size, and contained somethirty or more guests, and he saw that the professor was right.
He met several curious glances, some fair ladies expressing interest aswell as curiosity, and his face flushed.
"Gratifying, isn't it?" said the professor, smiling.
"No, I don't think it is," answered our hero.
"Why not?" demanded Professor Riccabocca, appearing amazed.
"If all were true, it might be," replied Philip. "As it is, I feel likea humbug."
"Humbug pays in this world," said the professor cheerfully. "By the way,there's another little paragraph to which I will call your attention."
Philip read this additional item:
"We understand that Professor Riecabocca and Mr. Philip de Gray havereceived a cable despatch from the Prince of Wales, inviting them toinstruct his sons in elocution and music, at a very liberal salary. Theyhave this proposal under consideration, though they are naturally ratherreluctant to give up the plaudits of the public, even for so honorable aposition."
"Professor Riccabocca," said Philip, considerably annoyed by thisaudacious invention, "you ought to have consulted me before publishingsuch a falsehood as this."
"Falsehood, Mr. de Gray? Really I'm shocked! Gentlemen don't use suchwords, or make such charges."
"You don't mean to say it's true that we have received any suchtelegram?"
"No; of course not."
"Then why didn't I use the right word?"
"It's an innocent little fiction, my young friend--a fiction that willdo no one any harm, but will cause us to be regarded with extraordinaryinterest."
Here the thought occurred to Philip that he, the future instructor ofBritish royalty, had only just escaped from a poorhouse, and it seemedto him so droll that he burst out laughing.
"Why do you laugh, Mr. de Gray?" asked the professor, a littlesuspiciously.
"I was thinking of something amusing," said Philip.
"Well, well! We shall have cause to laugh when we play this evening to acrowded house."
"I hope so. But, professor, if we keep together, you mustn't print anymore such paragraphs about me. Of course, I am not responsible for whatyou say about yourself."
"Oh, it will be all right!" said Riccabocca. "What are you going to dowith yourself?"
"I shall practice a little in my room, for I want to play well to-night.When I get tired I shall take a walk."
"Very wise--very judicious. I don't need to do it, being, as I may say,a veteran reader. I wouldn't rehearse if I were to play this eveningbefore the president and all the distinguished men of the nation."
"I don't feel so confident of myself," said Philip.
"No, of course not. By the way, can you lend me fifty cents, Mr. deGray?"
"Certainly."
"I don't want to break a ten."
Professor Riccabocca didn't mention that the only ten he had was aten-cent piece.
Slipping Philip's half-dollar into his vest pocket, he said carelessly:
"We'll take this into the account when we divide the proceeds of theentertainment."
"Very well," said Philip.
He went up to his room and played for an hour or more, rehearsing thedifferent pieces he had selected for the evening, and then, feeling theneed of a little fresh air, he took a walk.
In different parts of the town he saw posters, on which his name wasprinted in large letters.
"It seems almost like a joke!" he said to himself.
Just then he heard his name called, and, looking up, he recognizeda young fellow, of sixteen or thereabouts, who had formerly lived inNorton. It seemed pleasant to see a familiar face.
"Why, Morris Lovett," he exclaimed "I didn't know you were here!"
"Yes; I'm clerk in a store. Are you the one that is going to give anentertainment tonight?"
"Yes," answered Philip, smiling.
"I didn't know you were such a great player," said Morris, regarding ourhero with new respect.
He had read the morning paper.
"Nor I," said Philip, laughing.
"Are you going to Europe soon?"
"It isn't decided yet!" Philip answered, laughing.
"I wish I had your chance."
"Come and hear me this evening, at any rate," said Philip. "Call at thehotel, at six o'clock, and I'll give you a ticket."
"I'll be sure to come," said Morris, well pleased.
CHAPTER XXVIII. A TRIUMPHANT SUCCESS.
Philip took another walk in the afternoon, and was rather amused tosee how much attention he received. When he drew near the hotel he wasstared at by several gaping youngsters, who apparently were stationedthere for no other purpose. He overheard their whispers:
"That's him! That's Philip de Gray, the wonderful fiddler!"
"I never suspected, when I lived at Norton, that I was so much of acuriosity," he said to himself. "I wish I knew what they'll say about meto-morrow."
At six o'clock Morris Lovett called and received his ticket.
"You'll have a big house to-night, Philip," he said. "I know a lot offellows that are going."
"I am glad to hear it," said Philip, well pleased, for he concluded thatif such were the case his purse would be considerably heavier the nextday.
"It's strange how quick you've come up;" said Morris. "I never expectedyou'd be so famous."
"Nor I," said Philip, laughing.
"I'd give anything if I could have my name posted round like yours."
"Perhaps you will have, some time."
"Oh, no! I couldn't play more'n a pig," said Morris decidedly. "I'llhave to be a clerk, and stick to business."
"You'll make more money in the end that way, Morris, even if your nameisn't printed in capitals."
They retired into a small room adjoining the stage, to prepare for theirappearance.
The professor rubbed his hands in glee.
"Did you see what a house we have, Mr. de Gray?"
"Yes, professor."
"I think there'll be a hundred dollars over and above expenses."
"That will be splendid!" said Philip, naturally elated.
"The firm of Riccaboeca and De Gray is starting swimmingly."
"So it is. I hope it will continue so."
"Here is the program, Mr. de Gray. You will observe that I appear first,in my famous soliloquy. You will follow, with the 'Carnival of Venice.'Do you feel agitated?"
"Oh, no. I am so used to playing that I shall not feel at all bashful."
"That is well."
"I would like to be on the stage, professor, to hear you."
"Certainly. I have anticipated your desire, and provided an extrachair."
The time came, and Professor Riccabocca stepped upon the stage, hismanner full of dignity, and advanced to the desk. Philip took a chair alittle to the rear.
Their entrance was greeted by hearty applause. The professor made astately bow, and a brief introductory speech, in which he said severalthings about Philip and himself which rather astonished our hero. Thenhe began to recite the soliloquy.
Probably it was never before so amazingly recited. ProfessorRiccabocca's gestures, facial contortions, and inflections were veryremarkable. Philip almost suspected that he was essaying a burlesquerole.
The mature portion of the audience were evidently puzzled, but the smallboys were delighted, and with some of the young men, stamped vigorouslyat the close.
Professor Riccabocea bowed modestly, and said:
"Gentlemen and ladies, you will now have the pleasure of listening tothe young and talented Philip de Gray, the wonderful boy-musician, inhis unrivaled rendition of the 'Carnival of Venice.'"
P
hilip rose, coloring a little with shame a I this high-flownintroduction, and came forward.
All applauded heartily, for sympathy is always felt for a youngperformer, especially when he has a manly bearing and an attractiveface, such as our hero possessed.
Philip was determined to do his best. Indeed, after being advertised andannounced as a boy wonder, he felt that he could not do otherwise.
He commenced, and soon lost himself in the music he loved so well, sothat before he had half finished he had quite forgotten his audience,and half started at the boisterous applause which followed. He bowed hisacknowledgments, but found this would not do.
He was forced to play it a second time, greatly to the apparentsatisfaction of the audience. It was clear that, whatever might bethought of Professor Riccabocea's recitation, the young violinist hadnot disappointed his audience.
Philip could see, in a seat near the stage, the beaming face of hisfriend Morris Lovett, who was delighted at the success of his oldacquaintance, and anticipated the reflected glory which he received,from its being known that he was a friend of the wonderful youngmusician.
Professor Riccabocca came forward again, and recited a poem called "TheManiac," each stanza ending with the line: "I am not mad, but soon shallbe."
The Young Musician; Or, Fighting His Way Page 11
