ops are out on the rim of the city, near the Park,--a place of
diversion. There's a scenic railway, a water toboggan slide, a concert
band, a theatre, wild animals, moving pictures, and so forth and so
forth. The common people go there to look at the animals and enjoy
themselves, and the other people go there to enjoy themselves
by watching the common people enjoy themselves. A democratic,
fresh-air-breathing, frolicking affair, that's what the Loops are.

"But the theatre is what concerns you. It's vaudeville. One turn follows
another--jugglers, acrobats, rubber-jointed wonders, fire-dancers,
coon-song artists, singers, players, female impersonators, sentimental
soloists, and so forth and so forth. These people are professional
vaudevillists. They make their living that way. Many are excellently
paid. Some are free rovers, doing a turn wherever they can get an
opening, at the Obermann, the Orpheus, the Alcatraz, the Louvre, and
so forth and so forth. Others cover circuit pretty well all over the
country. An interesting phase of life, and the pay is big enough to
attract many aspirants.

"Now the management of the Loops, in its bid for popularity, instituted
what is called 'Amateur Night'; that is to say, twice a week, after
the professionals have done their turns, the stage is given over to
the aspiring amateurs. The audience remains to criticise. The populace
becomes the arbiter of art--or it thinks it does, which is the same
thing; and it pays its money and is well pleased with itself, and
Amateur Night is a paying proposition to the management.

"But the point of Amateur Night, and it is well to note it, is that
these amateurs are not really amateurs. They are paid for doing their
turn. At the best, they may be termed 'professional amateurs.' It stands
to reason that the management could not get people to face a rampant
audience for nothing, and on such occasions the audience certainly goes
mad. It's great fun--for the audience. But the thing for you to do, and
it requires nerve, I assure you, is to go out, make arrangements for two
turns, (Wednesday and Saturday nights, I believe), do your two turns,
and write it up for the Sunday Intelligencer."

"But--but," she quavered, "I--I--" and there was a suggestion of
disappointment and tears in her voice.

"I see," he said kindly. "You were expecting something else, something
different, something better. We all do at first. But remember the
admiral of the Queen's Na