some small, were to be
placed, each with a candle in it. Ben was confident that they would
remain there safely enough, provided no one walked very heavily on the
stage; he also suggested to Mopsey that he should have as little
fighting as possible in the play, because of the insecurity of these
bottle foot-lights. This piece of advice, however, caused the author
to frown severely, as if he felt that some of his best scenes would
thus be interfered with.

No one had thought of lighting the main body of the hall until Ben and
Dickey noticed the omission, and supplied it by tying candles around
two barrel-hoops, and hanging them up like chandeliers, which added
greatly to the general appearance and finish of the place. After all
these things had been inspected the party adjourned to dinner, in
order to fortify themselves for the trying mental labor before them,
and Dickey remained as the guest of his partners, having been
specially invited by them and Mrs. Green.

CHAPTER VIII.

AN AUTHOR'S TRIALS.

When the dinner was ended--and the members of the dramatic company
made short work of it in order to begin their professional duties as
soon as possible--Mopsey Dowd fully realized that he was about to pass
in judgment before his partners. Whether he was entitled to it or not,
he had some considerable fame as an author, and for that reason he had
taken upon himself, voluntarily and even eagerly, the task of
preparing an original play for the great event; which goes to show,
perhaps, more than anything else, that Mopsey's fame resulted from
chance rather than merit.

When he rose from the table he knew that every eye was upon him, and
that each one present expected to hear him say something relative to
the brain-effort he was making. He was a genius, and would be until
his friends found him out, which occurrence would not be very far off
if he should say anything then, for the very good reason that he did
not know what to say. He knew that something must be done, and that
speedily, which would bear out his claim to distinction, and, with a
view to gaining time, he said:

"You fellers go into the theatre, 'cause I ain't quite ready yet, an'
I'll go up to my room to think over one or two things."

This speech was very much needed just then, for Mopsey had been so
reticent as to his play that his partners were beginning to suspect
that he was not all he claimed to be. But now perfect trust was
restored by his word