Affairs had not been going along very smoothly at the Museum. About this
time, there came into existence a new tempo in music that appealed
chiefly to people whose musical tastes were not yet developed, or who had
no musical taste or ear whatsoever. Now the performers at Costello's
Museum, who were called artists on the playbills, insisted that the
"Night Profess'" play their accompaniments to their acts in this new
style of musical rhythm--ragtime as it was most appropriately called.
But Von Barwig, being a musician, whose music lay in his soul and not
merely in his feet and fingers, could not do this. He worked hard to get
it, but could not, and the artists complained to the manager. As a
result Mr. Costello called upon Von Barwig at his lodgings; much to the
professor's astonishment and dismay.
"Say, who was that freak that poked her head out or the door as I came
in?" said that gentleman, as soon as he had banged the door shut, and
seated himself comfortably in Von Barwig's armchair.
"Freak? Freak? we have no freaks here! Oh," and a faint smile stole
over Von Barwig's features, which he tried hard to repress. "You mean
perhaps Miss Husted?"
"Do I?" inquired Costello, "well, p'raps I do! She's of the vintage of
1776, and looks like a waxwork edition of ----"
"Please, please!" remonstrated Von Barwig. "She is a lady, a most
hospitable, kind-hearted lady! You would like her if you knew her,
really----"
"Maybe so," said Costello, somewhat dubiously; and then he blurted out:
"Well, profess', I've come on a professional visit! I want to put you
wise before you turn up to play to-night."
Von Barwig looked pained. Costello was bawling at the top of his voice,
and he was afraid that the household would hear.
"Hush, please! You speak so loud. As you know, my visits to the Museum
are, in a sense, a secret. I keep my private and my professional life
apart, as it were. Forgive me, but please, please, don't speak loudly!
I do not wish it known; for they think that I--they do not know that
I--have--" Von Barwig was about to say, "fallen so low," but he did not
wish to hurt the amiable Costello's feelings; so he paused.
"That's all right, profess'," broke in Costello; "I'm having a little
trouble with my main attraction, Bosco, the armless wonder. I wish she
was a tongueless wonder! She has no arms, but my God; how she can talk!
I left her taking it out of the day professor; she was swearing a blue
streak. Ain't it funny how these stars kick?" and Mr. Costello bit the
end off a cigar, viciously lit it, and puffed furiously at it till the
room was clouded with smoke. Von Barwig was silent. He was waiting for
Mr. Costello to tell him the worst, that he could not come again. His
heart began to beat; what should he do if he lost his position?
"She says your music is queering her act," said Mr. Costello finally,
"she says you don't give it to her thumpin' enough; she wants ragtime or
she can't work."
"I will do my best," said the old man simply. "I try hard to please her;
indeed I do!"
"I know you do, I know you do, profess'! But, say, you can't do anything
with them guys! You know I like you, you've got such damned elegant
manners--the gentleman all over. Yes, sir, you're a twenty-two karat
gentleman; you're the first professor the freaks darsent josh!"
Von Barwig bowed his head. He was grateful to Costello; the man had made
his hideous task almost bearable.
"Now I don't want to lose her and I don't want to lose you," Costello
went on, "but things have got to go right, see? They've got to! You're
one of them kind that can take a tip. Give her what she wants! What's
the difference? You're a gentleman--she's a lady! She doesn't know any
better!"
"I am so sorry, so very sorry to trouble--" faltered Von Barwig.
"You're all right, profess'," broke in Costello, "you earn your money if
it is small pay; but the job goes against you, now don't it?" His voice
was almost soft. "You ain't used to our kind, are you?" The man's
brusque kindness touched Von Barwig, and he choked up a little as he
spoke:
"Well--I--I--I have had higher thoughts. Here in Houston Street life is
strange, and I must take what I find. Times are a little hard, a little
hard, and the parents of my pupils are pushed for money. They don't pay,
otherwise, perhaps I--" and Von Barwig sighed.
"You ain't suited, that's what's the matter!"
"Oh, yes; oh, yes! I--" broke in Von Barwig, afraid that Costello might
dispense with his services altogether. "I acknowledge the curios came a
little on my nerves at first. It was all so strange: the people staring,
the midgets chattering, the stout lady fanning, fanning, always fanning,
the lecturing of the lecturer; and you at the door always calling
'Insides, insides!'"