is very good of him."
"Oh, he knows what he is about, and he is awake to the fact that there is a certain fortune in the play. But, for all that, he is a downy bird—a very downy bird. He argues. Says he, 'Your last piece, Linton, was almost a crusher to me.' At which Linton's heart sinks into his shoes, and he groans, instead of meeting it lightly as he ought to do. But that is a matter of temperament. 'I had to close my theatre,' says the manager of the Star, 'not having another piece ready, and here I am paying rent for shut doors. It has cost me so much,' mentioning a sum, which my experience tells me is the actual, multiplied by four. But that's neither here nor there. The manager of the Star goes on: 'To put the new piece on will cost so much,' again mentioning a sum multiplied by four. 'What do you propose to contribute toward it if I make the venture?' 'I give you my brains,' says Linton; 'that is all I possess.' 'In that case,' says the manager, 'I am afraid it is not to be thought of. I can't afford to stand the entire risk.' I, being present at the interview, step in here. I don't intend to apologize to Linton when I tell you, Leth, that he is not fit to manage his own business. 'You did produce a play of Linton's,' I say to the manager—it was called Boots and Shoes, Leth; no doubt you remember it—'out of which you made a pot of money.' 'A small pot,' says the manager of the Star; 'a very small pot.' 'And,' says I, 'which you bought right out for the miserable sum of fifty pounds.' 'Well,' says the manager, 'that was the bargain, made with our eyes open. When I offered fifty pounds for Boots and Shoes I did it for the purpose of doing Linton a good turn. He was hard up at the time, and I risked the fifty on the off chance. If I make by one piece I lose by another.' 'Let us come to the point,' says I, 'about the new piece. You want something contributed toward the expense of getting it up. How much? Don't open your mouth too wide.' 'Two hundred pounds,' says he; 'not a penny less.' To tell you the truth, Leth, I thought he was going to ask for more. It isn't a very large sum, is it?"
"Not to some people," replied Mr. Lethbridge, with a cheerful smile.
"Pleased to hear you say so. There's more to tell. It is not putting down the two hundred pounds and saying good-bye to it; it will come back in less than no time. The first profits of the piece will be devoted to repaying the amount, so that there is really very little risk, if any. Having stated his conditions the manager of the Star retires, and we retire also, to consider ways and means. Now I needn't tell you, Leth, that we can just as easily lay our hands upon two hundred pounds as we can bring the man in the moon down from the skies. The question then is—how to raise it? A serious question. We consider long, and at length a bright idea flashes upon me. I have, in an indirect way, made the acquaintance of a man who discounts bills. The acquaintance is slight—very slight; but faint heart, you know, and I go to him. I will mention his name to you; but it must be done in confidence—between ourselves."
"Yes," said Mr. Lethbridge.
"His name is Pamflett—Jeremiah Pamflett."
"I know the name of Pamflett," said Mr. Lethbridge. "The father of my niece Phœbe, who is just now on a visit to us——"
"The dearest, sweetest girl!" said Kiss, in explanation to Mr. Linton.
"Has a housekeeper of that name. Can Mr. Jeremiah Pamflett be a connexion of hers?"
"It is not unlikely," said Kiss; "to speak the truth, it is quite likely. But that is not material, is it?"
"No," said Mr. Lethbridge, with a slight pause for consideration; "I don't think it is. I believe he manages some kind of business for Phœbe's father."
"For Miser Farebrother? Yes, that is so; but he does business also on his own account. As I was saying, I go to Mr. Pamflett, and I lay the case before him; but he says he doesn't see his way to doing a bill for me and Linton without other names upon it. I run over the names of a few friends who would be willing to sign it, but Mr. Pamflett still demurs. It was then that the bright idea flashes upon me; I think of you. To come to you and ask you to lend us two hundred pounds was, of course, out of the question."
"I regret to say it would be," said Mr. Lethbridge. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure if it were in my power."
"I know, and therefore we have not come here with any such idea; but your name occurring to me while I was talking to Mr. Pamflett, I naturally mention it. He meets me instantly. He knows all about you and your family."
"He has never been here," interposed Mr. Lethbridge.
"He spoke most kindly of you, and said he had the greatest respect for you——"
"To my knowledge," again interposed Mr. Lethbridge, "I have never seen his face. I shouldn't know him from Adam if he stood before me now."
"Perhaps he knows of you through your niece. However it is, you would not have been displeased had you heard him speak of you. The upshot of the affair is that he makes a proposition by which we shall get the two hundred pounds required to produce Linton's new play. The proposition is—and bear in mind that Mr. Pamflett made it out of pure kindness, and out of the respect in which he holds you—that Linton should draw a bill at six months' date for three hundred pounds, and that you should accept it. Linton, of course, as drawer, will endorse it, and so will I. If I hand this bill to Mr. Pamflett to-morrow he will give Linton his cheque for two hundred pounds, and our friend's fortune is made. The resources of civilization, my dear Leth, are wonderful. That a mere scratch of the pen can make a name famous, can make a worthy fellow happy, can bring joy to the hearts of a good woman and her children—you will love Mrs. Linton when you know her—can snatch a man from the depths of despair—now, is it not wonderful to think of? They will bless you, they will remember you in their prayers—but I will say no more. It remains with you."
In this speech the actor's art, unconsciously exercised, made itself felt, and it penetrated the very soul of good Uncle Leth.
"It does not enter my mind," said Mr. Lethbridge to Kiss, "that you would deceive me——"
"I would cut my right hand off first."
"And therefore you will forgive me when I ask you if there is really no risk?"
"I give you my word and honour, Leth," said Kiss, very seriously, "as a man, and, what is more, as a judge of plays, that there is not the slightest risk. Is my opinion, as an actor and an honourable man, of any value?"
"Of the highest value!"
"There is not an atom of risk. Linton has his play in his pocket: he shall read it to you—or, rather, I will read it to you—before we leave you to-night. Linton is an execrable reader of his own works. He is so nervous and fidgety and undramatic that he misses every point. If ever I feel inclined to punch his head it is when he is reading his manuscript to the company in the green-room. Many a good play has been rejected because of this incapacity; many a bad play has been accepted because of the fervour and the magnetism of the author, who, carried away himself (frequently by inordinate vanity), has carried away a theatrical manager, and actors too sometimes, and warped their judgment. I will read Linton's play fairly, so that you will be able to form a proper estimate of it. Just consider, Leth: the bill is not due for six months. In three or four weeks at the furthest Linton's piece will be produced. The manager of the Star Theatre would like to rush it on sooner, but I shall insist upon a proper number of rehearsals. I shall stage-manage it myself, and that should be a guarantee. Two weeks after the production of the piece I shall have the pleasure—I beg Linton's pardon: he will have the pleasure—of handing you the sum of three hundred pounds in a new suit of clothes. Not the money thus clothed, but the happy author. That will be four months before the money is to be paid to Mr. Jeremiah Pamflett. You can keep it and use it for those four months if you wish."
"I shall pay it at once,"
