Mary came up to the great man.  “See here, Abey,” she said, in a low voice, “you’re making the worst mistake of your life.  Apparently this man hasn’t been discovered.  When he is, you know what’ll happen.”

“Vere doss he come from?”

“I don’t know.  Billy here brought him.  I said he must have come out of a stained glass window in St. Bartholomew’s Church.”

“Oho, ho!” said T-S.

“Anyhow, he’s new, and he’s too good to keep.  The paper’s ’ll get hold of him sure.  Just look at him!”

“But, Mary, can he act?”

“Act?  My God, he don’t have to act!  He only has to look at you, and you want to fall at his feet.  Go be decent to him, and find out what he wants.”

The great man surveyed the figure of the stranger appraisingly.  Then he went up to him.  “See here, Mr. Carpenter, maybe I could make you famous.  Vould you like dat?”

“I have never thought of being famous,” was the reply.

“Vell, you tink of it now.  If I hire you, I make you de greatest actor in de vorld.  I make it a propaganda picture fer de churches, dey vould show it to de headens in China and in Zululand.  I make you a contract fer ten years, and I pay you five hunded dollars a veek, vedder you vork or not, and you vouldn’t have to vork so much, because I don’t catch myself makin’ a million dollar feature picture vit gawd amighty and de angels in it for no regular veekly releases.  Maybe you find some cheap skate feller vit some vild cat company vot promise you more; but he sells de picture and makes over de money to his vife’s brudders, and den he goes bust, and vere you at den, hey?  Mary Magna, here, she tell you, if you git a contract vit old Abey, it’s shoost like you got libbidy bonds.  I make dat lovely lady a check every veek fer tirty-five hunded dollars, an’ I gotta sign it vit my own hand, and I tell you it gives me de cramps to sign so much money all de time, but I do it, and you see all dem rings and ribbons and veils and tings vot she buys vit de money, she looks like a jeweler’s shop and a toy-store all rolled into vun goin’ valkin’ down de street.”

“Mr. Carpenter was just scolding me for that,” said Mary.  “I’ve an idea if you pay him a salary, he’ll feed it to the poor.”

“If I pay it,” said T-S, “it’s his, and he can feed it to de dicky-birds if he vants to.  Vot you say, Mr. Carpenter?”

I was waiting with curiosity to hear what he would say; but at that moment the door from the “maternity-room” was opened, and the voice of Madame Planchet broke in:  “Here she ees!” And the flesh-mountain appeared, with the two caryatids supporting her.

XIII

“My Gawd!” gasped Mrs. T-S.  “I’m dyin’!”

Her husband responded, beaming, “So you gone and done it again!”

Said Mrs. T-S:  “I’ll never do it no more!”

Said the husband:  “Y’allus say dat.  Fergit it, Maw, you’re all right now, you don’t have to have your hair frizzed fer six mont’s!”