You remember how, as Wilkins was given to late dinners and
too much ale, he made me understudy his Mephisto, and if the piece had run
more'n two weeks, I'd probably had a chance to play it. Well, Hexter said,
as everything was ready to put on the piece, if I thought I was up in the
part, he'd let me try it. So we went to Renshaw's room and got the part and
here it is."
"But, Tom, burlesque isn't in your line."
"Isn't it? Anything's in my line. 'Versatility is the touchstone of power.'
That's where we of the old stock days come in! Besides, burlesque is the
thing now. Look at Leslie, and Wilson, and Hopper, and Powers. They're
the men who draw the salaries nowadays. If I make a hit in this part, my
fortune is sure."
"But Hexter's Theatre is on the Bowery."
"That doesn't matter. Hexter pays salaries."
Objections like this last one had often been made, and as often overcome in
the same words.
"And then besides--why, Alice, what's the matter?"
She had fallen back on the bed with a feeble moan. He leaned over her.
Slowly she opened her eyes.
"Tom, I'm afraid I'm dying."
Then Mogley remembered the doctor's words.
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