from an acquaintance, made during one of his night prowls, an old
English cabman. When he arrived at the address indicated he found the
old man sick in bed with rheumatism. He wanted Jarvis to drive his
hansom for a week, on a percentage, until he could get about again.
There was no choice. It was that or the park benches, so Jarvis
accepted. Old Hicks fitted, or rather misfitted, him in a faded blue
tailed coat and a topper, Jarvis looked like an Otto Gushing cartoon of
Apollo in the attire, but he never once thought of that. He hitched up
the bony old horse, mounted the box, with full instructions as to
traffic rules, and headed for the avenue. He found the new trade
amusing. He drove ladies on shopping tours, took nurses and their
charges around the Park. He did not notice that his face and manners
caused many a customer to stare in astonishment. When one woman said
audibly to her companion, "Good heavens! what a handsome creature!" he
never dreamed she referred to him.

It was the fourth day of his employment as a cabby when a summons came
from the Frohman offices bidding him appear at the theatre at eleven
o'clock on the following day. It was embarrassing. Old Hicks was
entirely dependent on what Jarvis brought in at night, and they could
neither of them afford to have the cab idle a full day. So he decided to
stop at the theatre in the morning, and then deduct his time off duty.
Promptly at eleven the cab arrived at the Empire Theatre and Jarvis
descended from the box. He gave the boy a cent to hold his horse,
although nothing except a bushel of oats could have urged the old
bone-rack into motion. Up to the booth window he marched, and presented
the letter. The boy inspected the old blue coat, the topper, and the
worn gloves.

"Character costume," he grinned: then he opened the letter, and his face
changed.

"Excuse me, sir, I'll see if Mr. Frohman will see you."

He was out and back, almost at once, bowing and holding the door open.

"Right ahead, into the private office," he said, importantly. A clerk
took charge of our hero at the far door, announcing formally, "Mr.
Jarvis Jocelyn, Mr. Frohman."

Jarvis entered the big room and crossed eyes with the man at the far
end. What Mr. Frohman saw was a tall, splendidly set-up youth, with a
head held high, and a fearless, free carriage, attired in the very
strange and battered habiliments of a cabby. What Jarvis saw was a fat
little man, with a round face, sharp