William Adolphus Turnpike

ly that he slept little, and William Adolphus Turnpike confided to Whimple that Tommy was "shaping up for the asylum." "He don't know what he's sayin' half the time, and

untry songs pretty we

d so does Ma, b

el

singing factories one day, and the feller what heard me says, 'Well,'

encouragin

. Anyway, that's not worrying me now-it's Tommy. M

t's troubl

d. Maybe I could hel

, William; it won't do to intr

obody ain't swipin' Tommy's money. I asked him and he says to me, 'Willyum, you know what our old friend Bill Shakespeare says.' And I sa

's version of it: Shakespea

f the semi-darkened theatre he noticed that his face was pale and drawn. The very simplicity of "the turn" constituted one of its greatest charms. Flo came on the stage and sang in a pure contralto voice several old country songs. A pretty woman she was, not tall, but gracefully formed, with dark blue eyes and a wealth of black hair, crowning a well-shaped head. She was a remarkably expressive singer-you saw the scenes of her songs as clearly as though you were wandering through them with Flo by your side. The applause was heartier with every song; it grew into an outburst of cheering when she sang "Come Back to Erin:" and at its close bowed and smiled her acknowledgments. She would have left the stage then, but the audience would n

ion. Flo Dearmore herself flung out her hands as though urging the people to listen and the orchestra to play on. Whimple started from his seat and then sat down again on Ep

spring, and the

ne the waters

eart, it kens na

l may cease frae

n the refrain, both k

e high road and I'l

in Scotlan

rue love will n

bonnie banks

y told everybody else what a clever act it was; but they had been "on to it" from the first. Scores of people confided to other scores that they had noticed the lad co

pstein only seemed to be cool. He passed the word along, and, as the curtain went up for the next act, the four friends quietly left their seats and walked down the stairs into the main en

t again for a hundred dollars a night," said William p

id the manager, "there's bi

not wholly understanding what lay behind Epstein's murmu

. "Flo Dearmore wants to see you, Mr

e along then-you c

latter went off with the manager, and then walked away slow

uncertain age, who turned to her mistress at the sight of Tommy. "It's a gent, honey," she said, and Flo, who was already in

his side. Flo waited, her own cheeks burning, her heart beating fast. Tommy came a little nearer

tle of her dashing self, answere

it's more than that

om

he first time I saw you on the stage. Don't you remember the pantom

was still a

stage. I've never forgotten that night, F

--" she

cted him-"I fell in love with you that night; I watched you grow in

t, To

and when you laughed--

d-"don't, Tommy. It

on rapidly. "I must feel that I can give you all that you would have, Tommy. There is no other man-believe me-and my work-my work-well, it is not all now. There are times when-" and again she halted. T

made them buy bargains they didn't want, meekly accepted her rebuff when she refused even to

rformance it was repeated. But William had no part in it. A choir boy from a city church got "the big money" the manager had talked of. And Tommy Watson, w