The Man with Two Left Feet Read Online Free PDF Page B

right. Come along in here, and I’ll tell you about it.’
    â€˜What do you want in this place? It looks a rummy spot.’
    â€˜Oh, that’s part of the story. I’ll tell you the whole thing.’
    We opened the door marked ‘Waiting Room.’ I never saw such a crowded place in my life. The room was packed till the walls bulged.
    Gussie explained.
    â€˜Pros,’ he said, ‘music-hall artistes, you know, waiting to see old Abe Riesbitter. This is September the first, vaudeville’s opening day. The early fall,’ said Gussie, who is a bit of a poet in his way, ‘is vaudeville’s springtime. All over the country, as August wanes, sparkling comediennes burst into bloom, the sap stirs in the veins of tramp cyclists, and last year’s contortionists, waking from their summer sleep, tie themselves tentatively into knots. What I mean is, this is the beginning of the new season, and everybody’s out hunting for bookings.’
    â€˜But what do you want here?’
    â€˜Oh, I’ve just got to see Abe about something. If you see a fat man with about fifty-seven chins come out of that door there grab him, for that’ll be Abe. He’s one of those fellows who advertise each step up they take in the world by growing another chin. I’m told that way back in the nineties he only had two. If you do grab Abe, remember that he knows me as George Wilson.’
    â€˜You said that you were going to explain that George Wilson business to me, Gussie, old man.’
    â€˜Well, it’s this way—’
    At this juncture dear old Gussie broke off short, rose from his seat, and sprang with indescribable vim at an extraordinarily stout chappie who had suddenly appeared. There was the deuce of a rush for him, but Gussie had got away to a good start, and the rest of the singers, dancers, jugglers, acrobats, and refined sketch teams seemed to recognize that he had won the trick, for they ebbed back into their places again, and Gussie and I went into the inner room.
    Mr. Riesbitter lit a cigar, and looked at us solemnly over his zareba of chins.
    â€˜Now, let me tell ya something,’ he said to Gussie. ‘You lizzun t’ me.’
    Gussie registered respectful attention. Mr. Riesbitter mused for a moment and shelled the cuspidor with indirect fire over the edge of the desk.
    â€˜Lizzun t’ me,’ he said again. ‘I seen you rehearse, as I promised Miss Denison I would. You ain’t bad for an amateur. You gotta lot to learn, but it’s in you. What it comes to is that I can fix you up in the four-a-day, if you’ll take thirty-five per. I can’t do better than that, and I wouldn’t have done that if the little lady hadn’t of kep’ after me. Take it or leave it. What do you say?’
    â€˜I’ll take it,’ said Gussie, huskily. ‘Thank you.’
    In the passage outside, Gussie gurgled with joy and slapped me on the back. ‘Bertie, old man, it’s all right. I’m the happiest man in New York.’
    â€˜Now what?’
    â€˜Well, you see, as I was telling you when Abe came in, Ray’s father used to be in the profession. He was before our time, but I remember hearing about him—Joe Danby. He used to be well known in London before he came over to America. Well, he’s a fine old boy, but as obstinate as a mule, and he didn’t like the idea of Ray marrying me because I wasn’t in the profession. Wouldn’t hear of it. Well, you remember at Oxford I could always sing a song pretty well; so Ray got hold of old Riesbitter and made him promise to come and hear me rehearse and get me bookings if he liked my work. She stands high with him. She coached me for weeks, the darling. And now, as you heard him say, he’s booked me in the small time at thirty-five dollars a week.’
    I steadied myself against the wall. The effects of the restoratives supplied by my pal at the hotel bar