close.

"Stand him on his head," spoke some one at the rear of the tent.

"Pass him along this way, my hearties, and we'll take a reef in his dry
goods," cried out someone else.

"We won't do a thing to him," chipped in a third humorist in the center
of the tent.

The tent was convulsed with laughter and merriment had full swing. It
was indeed a most remarkable performance, and the best of good nature
prevailed. At the moment when the hilarity was at its height a commotion
was heard outside of the tent. The band, or a portion of it, burst forth
once more in the street with the most discordant sounds mortal ears ever
heard. This brought the performance on the stage to a close.

"I would never have been able to get them out of the tent," explained
Handy afterwards, "only for my letting the band--that is, the worst
portion of it--loose on the outside."

To make a long story short, as the saying goes, the poor players cleared
over three hundred dollars by the night's show, while the distinguished
artists who gave grand opera in homeopathic doses in another end of the
town sang to almost empty benches. Handy told no untruth when he
announced on the bills that "those who witnessed the performance will
never forget it."

Years have rolled by since this company of poor strolling players
attempted "Humpty Dumpty" in Newport, but the memory of that night still
remains green in the minds of many.

CHAPTER VII

"He employs his fancy in his narrative and keeps his recollections
for his wit."
--RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.

A more delightful morning than that which followed the night of the
strollers' eventful performance it would be difficult to imagine. It was
the Sabbath, and the spirit of peace seemed to exercise its influence
all around. The sun shone brightly; a gentle breeze diffused its cooling
power, and the surface of the water was calm and placid. The graceful
yachts riding at anchor were decked as daintily in their gay bunting as
village maidens celebrating a fete. There was little of active life
afloat or ashore. Those on board the pleasure craft presented an
appearance different from that which characterized their movements the
days previous. It was, indeed, a day of rest.

Among the fleet of pleasure craft lay the _Gem of the Ocean_. She was
not a comely craft; her sides were weather-beaten, and her general
appearance homely and unprepossessing; but the same waters that bore the
othe