It was a surprise when Handy's cheerful face was seen on the threshold of McGowan's emporium.

"Well, I'm blest! Look here, Wes, see who's here! In the name of fortune, what wind blew you in?"

"Oh!" replied Handy, in his usual good-humored way, "I was growin' lazy workin' so hard, and ran up to see how the Academy is growing."

"Fine as silk. We are putting in overtime on it to-night in the way of gasfitting. You know, Handy," said McGowan, confidentially, "these gasfitters, like plumbers, are curious critters and need watching, and I'm going to have them work night and day until they get through. I wouldn't, between ourselves, have this anniversary celebration fall through for any amount of money, but——"

"Ah! I was expecting that."

"That but?"

"But we haven't a stitch of scenery for the darn stage. That's what's worrying me, and I can't see me way to mend it."

The veteran smiled, and then calmly asked, "Is that all that perplexes you?"

"And isn't that enough?" exclaimed his friend.

"Well, under ordinary circumstances," replied the veteran, "it would be more than enough; but let me relieve your anxieties. All the necessary scenery, properties, including a green baize curtain, latest style, will reach Gotown Friday night on special car."

Weston opened his eyes and mouth in wonder and exclaimed "What!"

McGowan, on the contrary, became serious and asked, "Handy, say, are you kiddin' us?"

"I am telling you the truth."

Then he explained to McGowan how, through the kindness and patriotism of the manager of the Weston Theatre, he was able to do the trick.

McGowan looked at Handy a moment, then caught him in an embrace and let a yell out of him that could be heard a half mile distant.

"Patsy!" he yelled out, "get a move on you. Call in Hans to help you, and I'll take a hand in myself. Handy, you're a bird! All present step up to the bar and drink the health, prosperity, and good luck of Mr. Handy and his friend, the manager of the Weston Theatre. This is on the house."

As soon as things quieted down and Handy had a chance to have a chat with his partner, Weston, he learned that the show promised great results financially.

Now that the scenery problem was solved, everybody seemed happy. Big Ed was the happiest of the lot. He shook hands with everyone who came in as the night grew older, and his description of the special car, and the green baize curtain, just like any first-class theatre in New York, Boston or Philadelphia, was glowing and picturesque. He was determined to show the people of Gotown and the remainder of the county that Gotown was in it with both feet, and when she started out to do things that she could do it and make no mistake about it.

Handy and Weston took the late train and reached Weston shortly after midnight, and retired for a good night's rest.

Next morning as Handy and his host sat together at breakfast, he explained the arrangement he had entered into with the regular Weston impresario. "The deal wasn't quite closed. I wanted, as I told him, to consult you, my partner in the Gotown proposition. I wished to give you a chance to go snacks with me in this new venture, if agreeable, on condition that you be as light as possible on the company for board and lodging while they are not working."

Both of them then set out for the theatre, where they found Smith and the company. Smith was in consultation with the stage manager of the house. Between them they had already selected three drop scenes—a parlor, a drawing-room, and a landscape or wood, two pairs of wings, two fly borders, and a pair of tormentors, the green baize curtain, and the stage carpet.

"Say, Wes, how does this strike you?" asked Handy, in a stage whisper.

"Great! but how did you do it?" he replied, in a manner bordering on amazement.

"Hush! You never can find out how to get out of a hole until you first get into one."

"Big Ed McGowan will be the most surprised man in Pennsylvania when he sees all this landed at the doors of the Academy."

"Oh, Mr. Smith! have you had a talk with the people, and how do they stand?"

"Prepared for anything, and are eager for the fray," answered Smith, in a breezy off-hand manner.

"Good! Now then sit down at the prompt table there and make notes," directed Handy, "of our lay-out. We open with a grand overture by the Handel and Hayden Philharmonic Society; and as a matter of course, on account of their patriotic kindness in volunteering for the celebration of the anniversary of the foundation of Gotown, they will have an encore and will then play a medley of national American airs, 'Yankee Doodle,' 'Hail, Columbia,' 'Patrick's Day,' 'The Watch on the Rhine,' 'The Star Spangled Banner,' and 'Dixie.' Then the curtain will go up on 'Box and Cox.' You'll play Box, Diggins will do Cox, and Cromwell will play Mrs. Bouncer."

"Hold on, sir," said Smith. "Cromwell can't do Mrs. Bouncer—he has a moustache, you know."

Handy smiled. "Let him shave it off. Don't you remember that in Augustin Daly's theatre, in the very heyday of its glory, Mr. Daly would not allow any actor to wear hair on his face? Cromwell is too good an actor to hesitate to make so slight a sacrifice in the interest of art. Tell him I said so, Smith."

Smith smiled, and in a stage whisper said: "He heard all you said. Yes, Mr. Cromwell will shave."

"Then will follow Miss De Vere in one of her coon songs, after the style of Fay Templeton, May Irwin or——What's that, boy?" addressing a lad who approached the prompt table.

"There's a man back at the stage door, sir," replied the boy, "with a fiddle case under his arm, who says you have a date with him."

"Oh, yes! That's all right, my boy. Where is he?" and Handy walked back with the boy. "Is this Signor Collenso, about whom I have heard so many pleasant things?"

"Say, Mr. Handy, me name is plain Bill Cullen for every-day work, but for professional purposes in the music line I discovered that it pays to put on a bit of style, and that's how I came to ring in the Collenso."

"Quite right, my dear fellow! All artists of more or less great ability, especially in the musical line, make such alterations. For instance, Lizzie Norton is twisted into Mme. Nordica; Pat Foley changed into Signor Foli; and when Ellen Mitchell became great, she dropped the old name and Italianized it into Melba. Oh, that's all right."

"Yes, sir; I know all that, and there are others. But when you and I are talking, let us give the Italian cognomen a rest. Now, what do you want me to do?"

"What can you do?"

"Oh, something of everything—classic and otherwise."

"What can you do in the classics, for example?"

"Selections from Mendelssohn, Paganini, Schumann, Rubinstein——"

"Say, my friend," asked Handy, in some surprise, "do you play such music?"

"Oh, yes, whenever I get a chance in public; but when alone they are my favorites. But, then, for encores I give them 'Killarney,' 'Molly Bawn,' 'The Swanee River,' 'Mr. Dooley,' 'Harrigan'—anything that's popular and what they call up to date."

"All right, Cullen. I'm busy just now. Will you call around to the hotel to-night and we'll have a chat, and fix things up?"

"Sure. I'll be on hand. About eight o'clock."

Handy then returned to the prompt table.

"Where were we, Smith? Oh, yes! I remember; we were giving Miss De Vere a dance. Well, after Daisey's dance will come SeÑor Collenso's violin solo, selection from Paganini. Then will follow the talented young Gotown lawyer in a dissertation on Shakespeare, and also inform them about the mill between Richard and Richmond. Smith, have you all that down?"

"Every word of it."

"And then will come the fight between Richard and Richmond with broadswords, in which you will have the opportunity of your life. The curtain will drop here, and then there will follow the intermission."

"Are you going to have much of an intermission?" inquired Smith.

"Oh, ten or fifteen minutes or so. You know we must give Big Ed, the proprietor of the emporium, as well as of the Academy, a chance to do a little bit of business. Besides, it's awfully dry work listening to good music, fine songs, and strong acting without something to help you to thoroughly enjoy them."

"That's true. That's a great first part, Mr. Handy. Music, song, vocal and instrumental; dance, oratory, and tragedy. Great, great!"

"Miss De Vere will start in after the intermission with that beautiful and thrilling song, 'Down in a Coal Mine.' Some member of the company, whoever knows it, can recite 'Shamus O'Brien,' or some other equally popular recitation."

"These two numbers will be sure to catch 'em," remarked Smith, with a broad grin of appreciation.

"Then will follow a dance, 'The Fox Hunter's Jig,' by Mr. Myles O'Hara, a prominent citizen of Gotown, who has in the most generous and patriotic manner volunteered to add to the festivities for this occasion. It will be his first appearance on the stage. The music for this event will be supplied by the celebrated Irish piper, Mr. Dinny Dempsey, who will also be seen on the stage in native Irish costume and full regalia. Then, Smith, you can trot out one of your well-known comic monologues that you are so famous in. After that we'll wind up with 'The Strollers' Medley,' in which all the company will take part, and Daisey De Vere can do a favorite stunt of dancing now and then to fill up the gap. Now, then, go to work. Get the people busy and have them in good working order. Call a full dress rehearsal at one o'clock on the stage at the Gotown Academy of Music, so that we'll all know what we've got to do at night. I think that's all just now."

There wasn't an idle hour for the remainder of the day and the greater part of the next by the company, under Smith's guidance, preparing for the anniversary event in Gotown. There were rehearsals, and rehearsals, and more rehearsals.

Friday evening, between eight and nine o'clock, Handy, his partner, and the stage manager of the Weston Theatre, arrived in Gotown with the borrowed scenery and props. Ed McGowan and assistants were at the station with three wagons to convey the stage accoutrements to the newly built temple of Thespis that was to open its doors to the public the following night. It was an all night job of preparation, but there were many and willing hands to do what they were bid, under the direction of Handy and his pro tem stage manager.

A student of the drama, had he been present, might have been carried back in thought a century or over, when many of the great players of days that are no more had to go through somewhat similar experiences. The Booths, the Cookes, the Keans, the Kembles, the Forrests, the Jeffersons, the Wallacks, and other great actors whose names are written on the imperishable tablets of fame have traveled over just such roads. Smith and the company, after a good night's rest and a hearty breakfast, reached Gotown early in the forenoon.

At fifteen minutes past seven o'clock the doors of the Metropolitan Academy of Music were thrown open, and at eight o'clock there was not an unoccupied space in the house. The Handel and Hayden Philharmonic musicians took their places in front of the stage and began the overture. It consisted of a medley of familiar airs. The audience was so well pleased with what they heard that the musicians had to let them have it again. Then the curtain went up and "Box and Cox," a rather original version of the old farce, opened the show. It created some laughter, but the people came there to be pleased, and they were. "Old Black Joe" was sung, with an invisible chorus, and brought down the house. Daisey De Vere's coon song, with original business and grotesque imitations, made another big hit. Signor Collenso's classic—and it was well rendered—was tamely received, but when he treated his auditors to "Molly Bawn" and the "Boys of Kilkenny" they went into ecstasies. This was followed by the appearance of the rising young lawyer, who paid a glowing tribute to Shakespeare, and then introduced King Richard and Richmond to fight it out to a finish on Bosworth field for England, home, and booty. It was certainly a most elaborately grotesque combat. The people in front liked it apparently, and goaded on the combatants to redoubled efforts, and when the tyrant king was knocked out three cheers and a tiger were given with a vengeance, and the curtain fell on the first part amid uproarious applause.

There was intermission of fifteen minutes. On the reappearance of Daisey De Vere, when the curtain went up, she was accorded a greeting that showed she had won her way to the hearts of her audience. With her interpretation of the onetime popular song, "Down in a Coal Mine," she completely captured those present with her vocalization. She had to repeat the ballad that good old Tony Pastor made popular in days of yore, when she had warmed up to her work, her "I'll tell you what I'll do. If you'll all join me in the chorus, I'll give you two verses when I get my second wind," set them all laughing, and clinched the hold she had already secured. The recitation of "Shamus O'Brien" seemed tame by comparison. But when Myles O'Hara gave them a vigorous and athletic exhibition of the "Fox Hunter's Jig," as Myles' father danced it in the Green Isle long before the O'Haras ever dreamt of emigrating to the land of the West, the applause was once more renewed. Dinny Dempsey supplied the music on the Irish pipes, which was in itself a novelty so appealing that he had to repeat, and Myles to dance, until both were fairly used up. It was eleven o'clock and after when Handy and his company started in for the wind-up, with their familiar old stand-by, "The Strollers' Medley." What it was all about no one present could tell. Only there was plenty of fun and merriment in it. There was a song, and a chorus now and then, a bit of a dance occasionally, and Daisey De Vere did a few grotesque steps and Handy entertained them with a comic speech. All were in the best of humor and heartily enjoyed what they saw and heard. Joy danced with fun, and the crowd was indeed a merry, happy, and fantastic gathering.

Before the curtain fell Big Ed McGowan came on the stage. His appearance was the signal for a great outburst of cheers. When something like quiet was restored, he thanked the audience, on behalf of the company for their splendid manifestation of appreciation and grand attendance at the great entertainment. He then invited all hands present to join and sing "Should auld acquaintance be forgot?" It is needless to add that it was sung with a vigor, strength, and heartiness which still remains a cheerful memory in Gotown.