A NEW ENGAGEMENT
Harry was not a little relieved at his narrow escape. He did not
propose to be taken captive without making a strong resistance; but
still, in a struggle with Mr. Fox and Joel, he felt that he would be
considerably at a disadvantage.
“I am much obliged to you for saving me, Professor Hemenway,” he said.
“You are quite welcome. So you didn’t like old Fox?”
“Not much.”
“He doesn’t appear to like you any better.”
“There isn’t much love lost between us,” returned Harry, laughing.
“How do you like the boy?”
“He served me a good turn--for five dollars--but he would help capture
me for the same money, or less.”
“You seem to know him.”
“He is fond of money, and would do almost anything for it.”
“You thank me for saving you from capture, my lad,” continued the
magician. “Well, I had an object in it--a selfish object.”
Harry looked puzzled.
“It struck me that I needed a boy about your size, and character, for
a general assistant, to sell tickets, take money, and help me on the
stage. How do you like the idea?”
“I like it,” answered Harry; “but there is one objection.”
“What is that?”
“I don’t come from Madagascar,” responded Harry, slyly.
Professor Hemenway laughed.
“You’ve been as near there as I have,” he said. “Did you really think
I came from Madagascar?”
“You look more as if you came from Maine, sir.”
“You’ve hit it! There’s where I did come from. I was raised
twenty-five miles from Portland on a farm. But it would never do to
put that on the bills. People are ready to pay more for imported than
for native curiosities. However, to come to business. I had a young
man traveling with me who wasn’t suited to the business. He was a
dry-goods clerk when I took him, and is better adapted to that
business than to mine. He left me last week, and I have been in a
quandary about his successor. How much do you consider your time
worth?”
“Just at present it isn’t worth much. If you will pay my traveling
expenses, that will satisfy me.”
“I will do better than that I will give you five dollars a week
besides, if business is good.”
“Thank you, sir. I think I shall enjoy traveling.”
There are few boys who do not like change of scene, and the chance of
seeing new places is attractive to all. Harry was decidedly of the
opinion that he had a streak of luck. It would be much better in all
ways than living with his late guardian, and working for partial
board.
As they approached the village of Conway, Harry’s attention was drawn
to a variety of posters setting forth, in mammoth letters, that the
world-renowned Magician of Madagascar would give a magical _soiree_ at
the Town Hall in the evening. Tickets, fifteen cents; children under
twelve years, ten cents. The posters, furthermore, attracted attention
by a large figure of the professor, dressed in bizarre style,
performing one of his tricks.
“That draws attention,” observed the professor, “particularly among
the boys. I think I shall have a hall full this evening. An audience
of three hundred will pay very well. My expenses are light. I do most
of my traveling in this wagon, and at hotels I get the usual
professional reduction.”
“Did it take you long to learn the business?”
“I have been learning all along. Every now and then I add a new
trick. I will teach you some.”
“I might leave you and set up on my own hook when I have learned,”
suggested Harry, with a smile.
“It will be some time before you look old enough for a magician. When
you are, I’ll give you my blessing and send you out.”
Meanwhile they had been jogging along, and were already in the main
street of Conway. The professor drew up in front of the village hotel,
and a groom came forward and took his horse.
“Wait a minute my friend,” said the professor. “Harry, you can help me
take my implements out of the back of the wagon.”
These “implements” were of a heterogeneous character, but all would
come in use in the evening. A number of boys watched their transfer
with mingled awe and curiosity.
“What’s them?” Harry heard one ask another, in a half-whispered tone.
“Those,” said the professor, in an impressive tone, turning toward the
boys. “Those are paraphernalia!”
The boys looked more awestruck than ever. All inwardly resolved to go
to the Town Hall that evening, and get a nearer view of the articles
which had such a grand name.
After a while Harry came downstairs from the room assigned him, and
stood on the piazza.
One of the boys drew near him cautiously.
“Are you the magician’s son?” he asked.
“No,” answered Harry, smiling.
“Do you come from Madagascar?”
“I have not been there recently.”
“Are all the people there magicians?”
“Not quite all.”
This information was rather scanty, but it was whispered about among
the boys, the first boy boasting that he had a talk with the young man
magician. If Harry had heard himself called thus, he would have been
very much amused.
Directly after supper Harry went with his employer to assist in
preparing the stage for the evening performance. Though novice, he
acquitted himself to the satisfaction of his employer, who
congratulated himself on having secured so efficient an assistant.
Half an hour before the performance he stationed himself in the entry,
provided with tickets. He sat at a small table, and received the
crowd. Though new to the business, he managed to make change rapidly.
He found his position one in which he had a chance to study human
nature.
During the evening Harry was called upon to assist the professor in
some of his tricks. Some boys would have been embarrassed upon finding
themselves objects of general attention, but Harry was by temperament
cool and self-possessed. He had been fond of declamation at school,
and this had accustomed him, to some extent, to a public appearance.
The entertainment was in two parts, with an intermission of ten
minutes.
“I wish you were a singer,” said the professor, when they were
standing behind the screen.
“Why?” asked Harry.
“Because the audience sometimes gets impatient during the
intermission. If I could put you on for a song, it would help quiet
them.”
“I can sing a little,” said Harry, modestly.
“What can you sing?”
“How would ‘The Last Rose of Summer’ do?”
“Capital. Can you sing it?”
“I can try.”
“You are sure you won’t break down? That would make a bad impression.”
“I can promise you I won’t break down, sir.”
“Then I’ll give you a trial. Are you ready to appear at once?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wait, then, till I announce you.”
The professor came from behind the screen, and, addressing the
audience, said: “Ladies and gentlemen, lest you should find the
necessary intermission tedious, I am happy to announce to you that the
young vocalist, Master Harry Vane, has kindly consented to favor you
with one of his popular melodies. He has selected by request, ‘The
Last Rose of Summer.’”
Harry could hardly refrain from laughing when he heard this
introduction.
“One would think I was a well-known singer,” he said to himself.
He came forward, and, standing before the audience, with his face a
little flushed, made a graceful bow. Then, pausing an instant, he
commenced the song announced. He had not sung two lines before the
professor, who waited the result with some curiosity and some anxiety,
found that he could sing. His voice was high, clear, and musical, and
his rendition was absolutely correct. The fact was, Harry had taken
lessons in a singing school at home, and had practiced privately also,
so that he had reason to feel confidence in himself.
The song was listened to with earnest attention and evident enjoyment
by all. When the last strain died away, and Harry made his farewell
bow, there was an enthusiastic burst of applause, emphasized by the
clapping of hands and the stamping of feet.
“You did yourself proud, my boy!” said the gratified Professor. “They
want you on again.”
This seemed evident from the noise.
“Can’t you sing something else?”
“Very well, sir.”
Harry was certainly pleased with this evidence of popular favor. He
had never before sung a solo before an audience, and, although he had
felt that he could, he was glad to find that he had not overestimated
his powers.
Once more he stood before the audience.
“I thank you for your kindness,” he said. “I will now sing you a comic
song.”
He sang a song very popular at that time, the words and air of which
were familiar to all. While it did not afford him so good a chance to
show his musical capacity, it was received with much greater favor
than the first song.
There was a perfect whirlwind of applause, and a third song was called
for.
“I would rather not sing again, professor,” said Harry.
“You needn’t. They would keep you singing all the evening if you would
allow it. Better leave off when they are unsatisfied.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “Master Vane thanks you for your kind
applause, but he makes it an unvarying rule never to sing but two
songs in an evening. He never broke that rule but once, and that was
at the special request of the governor-general of Canada. I shall now
have the pleasure of performing for your amusement, one of my most
popular experiments.”
“Well, you have pleased the people, and that is the main point. By
Jove! my boy, you’ve got a lovely voice.”
“I am glad you think so, sir.”
“You will prove a very valuable addition to my entertainments. I mean
to show my appreciation, too. How much did I agree to give you?”
“Five dollars a week if business was good.”
“It’s bound to be good. I’ll raise your wages to ten dollars a week,
if you’ll agree to sing one song, and two, if called for, at each of
my evening entertainments.”
“I’ll do it, sir,” said Harry, promptly. “It’s a surprise to me,
though, to find my voice so valuable to me.”
“It’s a popular gift, my boy; and all popular gifts are valuable. When
I get my new bill printed, I must have your name on it.”
They left Conway about noon the next day.
The Foxes, were destined to hear of Harry’s success. The Conway
_Citizen_ was taken in the family, and, much to their astonishment,
this is what they found, prominently placed, in the next number:
“The magical entertainment of Professor Hemenway, on Thursday evening,
was even more successful than usual. He had had the good fortune to
secure the services of a young vocalist named Harry Vane, who charmed
both young and old by two popular selections. His voice and execution
are both admirable, and we predict for him a brilliant future.”
Mr. Fox read this aloud in evident wonder and excitement.
“Did you ever hear the like?” he said.
“Who’d have thought it?” chimed in Mrs. Fox.