JOHN HENRY GETS A SHOCK.
A few minutes later we went into the general restaurant and found
Signor Petroskinski waiting for us.
His right name was Jeff Mulligan, but Petroskinski sounded more
foreign, and he fell for it.
I introduced Skinski to Bunch, and in five minutes all the business
details were settled.
Skinski needed about $900 to pay for a couple of new illusions
which were being built for him, and Bunch was appointed a committee
to go down to Sixth Avenue and disburse the funds.
"I think we've got the real graft, don't you, Skinski?" I said,
after the luncheon had been ordered.
"It's a pipe!" Skinski replied in pure United States, much to
Bunch's surprise. From the name and the make-up I suppose Bunch
expected Skinski to yelp in Bulgarian or throw out signals in
Graeco-Roman.
Skinski was a warm member with the gab thing.
He got his start in life travelling with a medicine wagon in the
West, and what he didn't know about the show business wasn't
necessary.
"Say, people!" our star went on, "I've a couple of new card tricks
up my sleeve that will leave the Reubens gasping for air. And when
I pull my new illusion, entitled, 'Keno, or the Curious Cage,' on
the public it will be a case of counting easy coin. Say! did I
ever tell you about that gold mine I won in the West many moons
ago?"
"Nix on the dream work, Skinski," I cut in. "We've put up our good
money to start you, so let's get down to the programme."
"Oh! very well," said Skinski; "but I was down to see my brokers
to-day in Wall Street and there are doings. I've got a plantation
full of gold out near the Blue Hills, and----"
"Please don't smoke, there are ladies present!" admonished Bunch.
"Oh, very well!" said Skinski, and forthwith he launched into a
description of his various tricks.
The waiter had just brought our luncheon when a large blondined
shadow fell across the festive board, and Skinski jumped to his
feet, followed by Bunch and yours surprisedly.
"Permit me!" Skinski said; "our new backers, Mr. Jefferson and Mr.
John Henry! this is Mademoiselle Dodo, the Human Guessworks. She's
my assistant in the mind-reading tests, and she's all to the
elegant. Will you feed the face, Dodey?"
"You betcher sweet!" Dodo replied, as she splashed into the chair
provided by the waiter, while I glanced at Bunch sideways and found
him on the verge of a fainting fit.
[Illustration: "You betcher sweet!"]
"I've told Dodey all about you two glad boys," Skinski went on,
"and she's for you, ain't you, Dodey?"
"You betcher sweet!" Dodo chimed in, with a hungry glance at the
cooked stuff.
"I told her we had a business meet on here, but if she wanted to
squeeze in she wouldn't be in nobody's way," Skinski continued.
"Dodey's an awful clever girl, and she wouldn't be in this biz
eight hours if that gold mine----"
"Sure, I know!" I interrupted; "possibly Mademoiselle is thirsty--a
little wine, eh?"
"You betcher sweet!" the stout person replied, with a celerity that
made Bunch sit up and look about the room to see if anyone
suspected him.
"Dodey is always for the suds thing," Skinski chipped in. "But
never to excess, never to excess. I never see Dodey lit up but
once, and that was in Dayton, Ohio, the night we played to the
janitor of the hall and his four children. When we came to the
place where Dodey is blindfolded and does the decimal fractions
stunt on the blackboard the janitor's oldest child fooled Dodey
into doing all next week's lessons in arithmetic and Dodey fretted
over it, didn't you, Dodey?"
"You betcher sweet!" the leading lady replied, with both eyes
following the efforts of the waiter, who was opening a bottle of
Pommery.
Bunch was beginning to get uneasy and I had a bad attack of fidgets.
"Say, Dodey!" our bright and shining light went on, "I want you to
make a fuss over these two young gents, because they are the only
nearly silk on the counter. They've put up their good cush to send
me on tour without ever dragging me before a Police Justice to
swear that I'm on the level, and if ever that gold mine----"
"Tush!" I interrupted. "I saw you work, Skinski, and you're a
wonder; that's good enough for my money."
"Yes, but you never once put a sleuth over the back trail to throw
the spot light on my past life," Skinski babbled on. "You're the
first white man that ever took a chance with me without lashing me
to the medicine ball, and I'll make good for you, all right, won't
I, Dodey?"
"You betcher sweet!" she mumbled, with a mouth full of Pommery.
"Say!" said Skinski to me, after we had ordered some breadstuff for
the leading lady, "you're not such a late train with the
sleight-of-hand gag yourself, Mr. Manager!"
"Oh! I'm only a piker at it," I replied, modestly. "I can do a few
moth-eaten tricks with the cards and I've studied out a few of the
illusions, enough to know how to do them without breaking an ankle,
but I'm not cute enough to be on the stage."
Skinski laughed, and Dodo looked over another glass of Pommery long
enough to say, "You betcher sweet!"
"Well," said Skinski, leading a bevy of French-fried potatoes up to
his moustache, "you'll know enough about it after I rehearse you to
go on and do the show when we hit a fried-egg burg, where there's
only a Mr. and Mrs. Audience to greet our earnest endeavors. Say,
boys, you'll get a lot of fricasseed experience trailing with this
troupe, believe me!"
"I'm only going to be with you for a few days," I answered. "Mr.
Jefferson will be your permanent manager."
"The hell I will!" spluttered Bunch. Then he got red in the face,
glared at Dodo, and grouched out a "beg pardon!"
"You betcher sweet!" she replied, patting the Pommery.
"Say, John! you know well enough I can't leave New York for more
than two or three days just at this time without having a good
excuse to give Alice," Bunch growled, while Skinski and the
Circassian lady put the knives to the chicken livers _en brochette_.
"How about me!" I snapped back. "I can't go out of town at all,
except in the day-time. I'll have to duck back to Ruraldene after
the show every evening or lose my card in the Happy Husbands'
Union. It's different with you, Bunch; you're not married yet."
"It isn't different at all," Bunch whipsawed me. "And you haven't
any business to expect me to hike over the country with this outfit
while you stay at home and read Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress."
"I won't read that at all," I countered; "I'll read nothing but the
ship news to see if you are stranded."
"Well, I won't do it!" snorted Bunch.
"You'll have to do it if you want to win out that wedding money," I
retorted. "Is this the way you thank me for what I've done for
you?"
"Done for me, nothing!" Bunch bit back. "I put up as much coin as
you did, and now you want me to do all the work!"
"Work!" I echoed; "what work is it to count money, eh, Skinski?"
"Counting money is a hot pastime, isn't it, Dodey?" he answered.
"You betcher sweet!" responded the fair lady, gazing dreamily at
the empty flagon of Pommery.
"Well, take my word for it," snarled Bunch, "I don't hanker for
that sort of amusement. If there's any train-hopping to be done,
it's up to you, John. It's your game, not mine."
"Say, are you going to welsh on me now that we've passed over our
contract to Skinski?" I asked hotly.
"No, I'm not going to welsh," Bunch came right back, "but I'm only
a silent partner in this concern, so you for the Bad Lands to do
the barking for the show."
"Why didn't you flash this stingy talk on me before we got
started?" I wanted to know. "It's a shine play to wait till you
get me all tied up with these artists here!"
Skinski and Dodo both took a bow.
"I didn't," Bunch cackled, "You framed up the whole thing, and now
you're sore because I won't leave home and friends to plug your
game."
"It's as much your game as mine!"
"It isn't!"
"It is!"
"Rats!"
"Make it twice on the Rats!"
In two seconds more I suppose we would have come to blows, but just
then a well-known voice behind us gurgled, "Hayo, John! why, I
hadn't any idea you were here! And Bunch, too! I'm so glad to see
you!"
It was Peaches, and behind her, smiling sweet approval, stood Aunt
Martha.
Heart failure for mine as I stumbled to my feet and caught the
interested expressions on the faces of Skinski and Dodo.
"Aunt Martha and I have been shopping, and we dropped in here for
luncheon," my wife rattled on, while I was slowly recovering.
"Of course we don't wish to be _de trop_," she added, glancing
curiously at the famous Skinski and his assistant in the
mind-reading tests.
"No, no, Peaches; certainly not!" I spluttered; "hadn't the
faintest idea you were coming in town to-day. Let me present
Bunch's Uncle Cornelius McGowan and his Aunt Flora from
Springfield--my wife and my mother-in-law!"
Skinski and Dodo were wise in a minute, and they never batted an
eye, but Bunch took the full count.
Of course he couldn't deny the relationship without giving himself
away, so he simply stood there and looked foolish.
"Have you been in the city very long?" my wife said most pleasantly
to Signor Petroskinski,
"No, Madam," he answered, with a most courtier-like bow; "we only
broke away from the cars this morning, and we bumped into nephew
quite by chance, didn't we, nephew?"
Bunch growled something that wouldn't sound well on the graphophone.
"Do you like New York?" Aunt Martha asked the other half of the
sketch in an effort to be pleasant.
"You betcher sweet!" said Dodo, whereupon Aunt Martha fell back two
paces to the rear and looked pityingly at Bunch.
"If you'll excuse us, Uncle Cornelius and Aunt Flora, I'll take my
wife and her mother to the train," I said nervously.
"Not at all, not at all," piped Skinski. "Dodey--I mean Flo--and I
don't mind a bit, do we, Flo?"
"You betcher sweet!" she answered, and I saw Peaches glance
questioningly at Bunch, who was giving a brilliant imitation of the
last rose of summer.
"But, John, I'm so hungry," Peaches pleaded.
"I know, my dear, but you see Bunch has an awful lot of family
happenings to discuss with his relatives," I said; "and we must
give him a chance to get acquainted with Uncle Cornelius and Aunt
Flora."
Whereupon I grabbed my hat and ducked for another eat shop without
ever glancing at Bunch.