excellent first act, he is informed that Mr. and Mrs. Whoosis propose
to sing three solos and two duets in the first act and five in the
second, and will he kindly build his script accordingly? This baffles
the author a little. He is aware that both artistes, though extremely
gifted northward as far as the ankle-bone, go all to pieces above that
level, with the result that by the time you reach the zone where the
brains and voice are located, there is nothing stirring whatever. And
he had allowed for this in his original conception of the play, by
making Mrs. Whoosis a deaf-mute and Mr. Whoosis a Trappist monk under
the perpetual vow of silence. The unfolding of the plot he had left to
the other characters, with a few ingenious gaps where the two stars
could come on and dance.

He takes a stiff bracer, ties a vinegar-soaked handkerchief round his
forehead, and sets to work to remodel his piece. He is a trifle
discouraged, but he perseveres. With almost superhuman toil he
contrives the only possible story which will fit the necessities of
the case. He has wrapped up the script and is about to stroll round
the corner to mail it, when he learns from the manager who is acting
as intermediary between the parties concerned in the production that
there is a slight hitch. Instead of having fifty thousand dollars
deposited in the bank to back the play, it seems that the artistes
merely said in their conversation that it would be awfully jolly if
they _did_ have that sum, or words to that effect.

By this time our author has got the thing into his system: or, rather,
he has worked so hard that he feels he cannot abandon the venture now.
He hunts for another manager who wants something musical, and at
length finds one. The only proviso is that this manager does not need
a piece built around two stars, but one suited to the needs of Jasper