with himself for bright sayings,
which he always accompanied with a cock of the eye. The musician not
showing any visible appreciation of the manager's metaphor, Perkins
immediately proceeded to uncock his eye.

"Passed the box-office coming up," continued this voluble enlightener;
"nothing left but a few seats in the top gallery. We'll stand them on
their heads to-morrow night--see if we don't." Then he handed the
bursting envelope of notices to Diotti, who listlessly put them on the
table at his side.

"Too tired to read, eh?" said Perkins, and then with the advance-agent
instinct strong within him he selected a clipping, and touching the
violinist on the shoulder: "Let me read this one to you. It is by Herr
Totenkellar. He is a hard nut to crack, but he did himself proud this
time. Great critic when he wants to be."

Perkins cleared his throat and began: "Diotti combines tremendous
feeling with equally tremendous technique. The entire audience was
under the witchery of his art." Diotti slowly negatived that statement
with bowed head. "His tone is full, round and clear; his
interpretation lends a story-telling charm to the music; for, while we
drank deep at the fountain of exquisite melody, we saw sparkling
within the waters the lights of Paradise. New York never has heard his
equal. He stands alone, pre-eminent, an artistic giant."

"Now, that's what I call great," said the impresario, dramatically;
"when you hit Totenkellar that way you are good for all kinds of
money."

Perkins took his hat and cane and moved toward the door. The violinist
arose and extended his hand wearily. "Good-day" came simultaneously;
then "I'm off. We'll turn 'em away to-morrow; see if we don't!"
Whereupon Perkins left Diotti alone in his misery.

IV

It was the evening of the fourteenth. In front of the Academy a
strong-lunged and insistent tribe of gentry, known as ticket
speculators, were reaping a rich harvest. They represented a beacon
light of hope to many tardy patrons of the evening's entertainment,
especially to the man who had forgotten his wife's injunction "to be
sure to buy the tickets on the way down town, dear, and get them in
the family circle, not too far back." This man's intentions were
sincere, but his newspaper was unusually interesting that morning. He
was deeply engrossed in an article on the causes leading to
matrimonial infelicities when his 'bus passed the Academy box-office.

He was six blocks f