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such an exhibition. Would he (Jake) furnish the money to pay the
expenses after ruining the business of the panorama?

Jake sat on a box, his eyes following Palmer as he walked from one side
of the platform to the other, busying himself all the while with some
part of the panorama, never looking toward Jake. Jake's smile was the
same, that is around the mouth; but looking more closely you could see
an expression in the deep-set blue eyes that betrayed feelings far
removed from those which cause smiles.

Palmer concluded his tirade by flinging a hammer on the floor and
declaring his belief that the mistakes were the result of a deliberate
attempt upon the part of the perpetrator to ruin him. "But I will not be
driven away from this work of my life by conspirators."

Jake had but a limited understanding of Palmer's language, yet
sufficient of what had been said sifted through his mind to convince him
that Palmer had made strong charges against him. Jake, in a tone of
voice that would have convinced anyone more reasonable than Palmer, of
his sorrow, inquired: "Vot I tid?"

"Vot I tid?" repeated Palmer, imitating Jake. "Vot I tid? Ha! Ha! What
didn't you do? From the night we opened it's been one round of breaks
and blunders upon your part."

Jake, in open-eyed surprise, repeated: "Breaks? Breaks? Breaks? Vot I
breaks?"

Palmer never ceased talking nor noticed Jake's questions. Pointing at
Jake, he said: "First you assumed the part of Christian, the most
important character to be impersonated. Every schoolboy or girl knows
the Christian makes a pilgrimage beginning at the City of Destruction,
from which he flees to the Celestial City. He carries a burden, of which
he is relieved at the proper time. He is supposed to encounter all sorts
of hardships and avoid pitfalls of danger, coming out triumphant at the
end of his journey. I ordered you to read the book. Alfred read it and
is familiar with every detail; you know nothing, positively nothing."

"Vot I tid?" again demanded Jake, a bit sternly.

"Vot you tid?" and Palmer pretended to tear his hair. "The first night,
the first scene, by holding the book you were supposed to be reading,
down by your knees, gaping at the audience like a baboon. You rolled
over on the floor in the Slough of Despond like a hog wallowing; you
throwed your burden in the Slough, then walked in the pond after it. The
pond you was supposed to be sinking into, drowning, you walked over it
a