A CHANGE OF NAME.
Wilkesville was an inland city, of from fifteen to twenty thousand
inhabitants.
As Philip and the professor passed along the principal street, they saw
various stores of different kinds, with here and there a large, high,
plain-looking structure, which they were told was used for the
manufacture of shoes.
“Wilkesville will give us a large audience,” he said, in a tone of
satisfaction.
“I hope so,” said our hero.
“Hope so? I know so!” said the professor confidently. “The town is full
of young men, employed in shoe-making. They are fond of amusement, and
they will gladly seize an opportunity of patronizing a first-class
entertainment like ours.”
The professor’s reasoning seemed good, but logic sometimes fails, and
Philip was not quite so sanguine. He said nothing, however, to dampen
the ardor of his partner.
“Let me see,” said the professor, pausing, “yonder stands the
Wilkesville Hotel. We had better put up there.”
It was a brick structure of considerable size, and seemed to have some
pretensions to fashion.
“Do you know how much they charge?” asked Philip prudently.
“No; I neither know nor care,” answered Professor Riccabocca loftily.
“But,” said Philip, “I haven’t much money.”
“Nor I,” admitted Riccabocca. “But it is absolutely necessary for us to
stop at a first-class place. We must not let the citizens suppose that
we are tramps or vagabonds. They will judge us by our surroundings.”
“There is something in that,” said Philip. “But suppose we don’t
succeed!”
“Succeed? We must succeed!” said the professor, striking an attitude.
“In the vocabulary of youth, there’s no such word as ‘fail’! Away with
timid caution! Our watchword be success!”
“Of course, you have much more experience than I,” said Philip.
“Certainly I have! We must keep up appearances. Be guided by me, and
all will come right.”
Philip reflected that they could not very well make less than their
expenses, and accordingly he acceded to the professor’s plans. They
entered the hotel, and Professor Riccabocca, assuming a dignified,
important step, walked up to the office. “Sir,” said he, to the clerk,
“my companion and myself would like an apartment, one eligibly located,
and of ample size.”
“You can be accommodated, sir,” answered the young man politely. “Will
you enter your names?”
Opening the hotel register, the elocutionist, with various flourishes,
entered, this name: “Professor Lorenzo Riccabocca, Elocutionist and
Dramatic Reader.”
“Shall I enter your name?” he asked of Philip.
“If you please.”
This was the way Professor Riccabocca complied with his request:
“Philip de Gray, the Wonderful Boy-musician.”
He turned the book, so that the clerk could see the entries.
“We propose to give an entertainment in Wilkesville,” he said.
“I am glad to hear it,” said the clerk politely.
“After dinner I will consult you as to what steps to take. Is there
anything in the way of amusement going on in town this evening?”
“Yes, there is a concert, chiefly of home-talent, in Music Hall. There
is nothing announced for to-morrow evening.”
“Then we will fix upon to-morrow evening. It will give us more time to
get out hand-bills, etc. Is there a printing-office in town?”
“Oh, yes, sir. We have a daily paper.”
“Is the office near at hand?”
“Yes, sir. It is on the corner of the next street.”
“That will do for the present. We will go up to our apartment. Will
dinner be ready soon?”
“In half an hour.”
Here the servant made his appearance, and the professor, with a wave of
his hand, said:
“Lead on, Mr. de Gray! I will follow.”