. You may have no talent, and not be
able to act even a little bit, but if you have style and cheek and put
up a good front you can count on an engagement every time. That's the
kind of stuff stars are made of now."

Handy's matter-of-fact argument was sufficient. He carried his point.
The company agreed to do Newport and take chances. It had previously
been decided to shelve "Uncle Tom's Cabin." So that perplexing matter
was settled. The important consideration, however, arose, what should
they substitute. A variety of pieces were named, but no decision was
reached. Handy's wonderful fertility of resource at length came to the
rescue and brought forth, much to the amazement of all, "Humpty Dumpty."
They had, it is true, no columbine, but a little thing like that did not
trouble the irrepressible Handy.

"Do not the annals of the American stage lay bare the fact," quoth he,
"that on one occasion in Wallack's old theatre, when it was located
downtown on Broadway, near Broome Street, in New York, during the run of
John Brougham's brilliant burlesque, 'Pocahontas,' with the famous
author himself in the cast as _Powhattan_, and Charles Walcot as
_Captain John Smith_, the extravaganza was given for one night only
without a _Pocahontas_. And the records say it was the most remarkable
and amusing performance of its entire run."

Plays with and without plots are frequently presented nowadays in many
of our so-called first-class theatres, with players of no experience and
little natural ability. The public accepts them because they are offered
nothing better. But that's neither here nor there at present. In "Humpty
Dumpty" they had a good standard name. Just old enough to be new.

"It is true," Handy argued, "we have not the necessary stage equipment
for a metropolitan production. The only thing we have, for that matter,
is the name. That is enough for us, and we are going to do the best we
can with it. Ordinary actors, together with all the necessary equipment
of props and scenery, might be able to attempt a presentation of the
famous pantomime, but it takes your strolling players, bred and brought
up in the old stock school, to turn the trick without them."

It was a lazy day on board the little vessel. There was no wind. The sun
poured down his rays so fiercely that it was almost unbearable. It was a
dead calm. All the sailing vessels within sight were motionless. Not a
sound disturbed the monotony of the scene, save the