y-five
dollars. Here, take this and go and get your money at the box office,"
as he handed the order to the professor, who instantly made a hasty
retreat through the nearest exit leading into the front of the house,
Fogg disappearing at the same time in the direction of his
dressing-room, to add the finishing touches to his make-up.

By this time it was nearly twenty minutes past eight o'clock, and the
audience had already begun to manifest indications of impatience.

"Handy," whispered Smith, "I'm glad I came. If I am not greatly mistaken
there will be a lively time here to-night. Mark what I'm telling you."

Just then another individual approached the stage manager and inquired
for Mr. Fogg. He introduced himself as Mr. Draper, the costumer, and he
was anxious to see the star of the evening, to "put up," as he expressed
himself, for the costumes before the curtain went up. At this stage of
the proceedings Fogg, now fully dressed for the gardener's son,
appeared. He was immediately buttonholed by the costumer for the amount
of his bill.

"After the performance, when we count up, my dear Mr. Draper," pleaded
Fogg, in his most insinuating way.

"After nothing. Now, now!" emphatically declared Draper. "What do you
take me for? I'm no sardine. You pay now, or by chowder! you can play
'The Lady of Lyons' in your shirt tails! You promised me the stuff in
the afternoon."

The audience by this time had become restless and somewhat
demonstrative. To add to the complications, Professor Funkenstein
reappeared in a most excited frame of mind. He had been to the box
office, but the bill-poster had anticipated him, and had threatened to
clean out the ranch if he didn't get his money. The treasurer, who was
an amateur, settled immediately with the knight of the pastepot to save
the house from destruction. After the box office man had settled with
the bill-poster there was only $5.25 in the drawer. That was at once
secured by the florist in part payment on account of flowers that were
to be presented to _Pauline_. The florist had been given the tip by the
bill-sticker, and he got the balance of the cash on hand by also
threatening to inaugurate the cleaning-out process.

The uproar in the front of the house increased. The stamping of feet,
the beating of canes on the floor, and the catcalls in the gallery made
terrific disturbance.

"You're a sweendler, Meister Vogue!" exclaimed the excited orchestra
leader.

"I'll make it