"Thereabouts," answered Mr. Beard, uneasily. Veteran as he was, Jethro's
appearance and earnestness were a little alarming.

"You say two dollars is their price?"

"Thereabouts," shouted Mr. Beard, seating himself on the edge of his
chair.

But Jethro paid no attention to him. He rose, unfolding by degrees his
six feet two, and strode diagonally across the corridor toward the band
leader. Conversation was hushed at the sight of his figure, a titter ran
around the walls, but Jethro was oblivious to these things. He drew a
great calfskin wallet from an inside pocket of his coat, and the band
leader, a florid German, laid down his instrument and made an elaborate
bow. Jethro waited until the man had become upright and then held out a
two-dollar bill.

"Is that about right for the performance?" he said "is that about right?"

"Ja, mein Herr," said the man, nodding vociferously.

"I want to pay what's right--I want to pay what's right," said Jethro.

"I thank you very much, sir," said the leader, finding his English, "you
haf pay for all."

"P-paid for everything--everything to-night?" demanded Jethro.

The leader spread out his hands.