tly."

"But you don't seem to enthuse over the prospects."

"No," answered Handy calmly. "No, I'm no enthuser. I was just turning
over in my mind your proposition. As I have not seen your paper, how it
would suit, I can't imagine what it looks like."

"What in thunder has that got to do with the case? Paper is paper,
printing is printing, and pictures are pictures, ain't they?"

"Quite correct, my friend. But you must bear in mind that they might not
fit any show that the company could do itself credit in."

"Stuff and nonsense! You make me slightly weary," replied the landlord.
"Suppose it don't--what then? If the printing don't suit the play or the
entertainment, what's the matter with the entertainment being made to
fit in and suit the printing? Don't they all do it? What do you think
printers and lithographers butt in and become theatrical managers for?
For the sake and love of art, eh? Rot! You know as well as I do that
this pictorial work you see stuck up all around hardly ever represents
the thing they give on the stage and to see which the theatre-going
public puts up its good coin to enjoy. Why, bless my soul, Mr. Handy,
there's hardly a show on the road to-day that don't lay its managers
liable to arraignment for obtaining money under false pretenses by the
brilliancy of the printing and the stupidity and poverty of the
performance."

"You talk like a reformer!"

"Reformers be hanged! I was about to tell you that some time ago there
was a movement on foot in one or two of the Western States to secure the
passage of a legal measure compelling showmen to actually present on the
stage what their pictorial work on the dead walls and billboards
promised. If the shows now going the rounds were half as good as their
printing, they'd be works of art."

"Say, boss!" remarked Handy admiringly, "you have the real Simon pure
theatrical managerial instinct in you, you have. You haven't always been
in the hotel business?"

"Nix, I had at one time the candy privilege with a circus, and I had to
keep my eyes open, I tell you."

"Shake, old man," as Handy extended his hand. "When you began talking
printing I knew you were on to the racket and understood something about
the theatrical biz. Why, you're one of us. You belong to the profesh."

"Oh, give us a rest with your nonsense! What are you chinning about? I
am just a plain, common, every-day innkeeper."

"Suppose you are. Let it go at that, and let me tell you