a metropolitan manager strolling about the foyer of his theatre some
evening during the earlier stages of an assured "phenomenal run."

From the first, there was no question which feature of the entertainment
was the attraction extraordinary: Verman--Verman, the savage tattooed
wild boy, speaking only his native foreign languages--Verman was a
triumph! Beaming, wreathed in smiles, melodious, incredibly fluent,
he had but to open his lips and a dead hush fell upon the audience.
Breathless, they leaned forward, hanging upon his every semi-syllable,
and, when Penrod checked the flow, burst into thunders of applause,
which Verman received with happy laughter.

Alas! he delayed not o'er long to display all the egregiousness of a
new star; but for a time there was no caprice of his too eccentric to
be forgiven. During Penrod's lecture upon the other curios, the tattooed
wild boy continually stamped his foot, grinned, and gesticulated,
tapping his tiny chest, and pointing to himself as it were to say: "Wait
for Me! I am the Big Show." So soon they learn; so soon they learn! And
(again alas!) this spoiled darling of public favour, like many another,
was fated to know, in good time, the fickleness of that favour.

But during all the morning performances he was the idol of his audience
and looked it! The climax of his popularity came during the fifth
overture of the Schofield and Williams Military Band, when the music
was quite drowned in the agitated clamours of Miss Rennsdale, who was
endeavouring to ascend the stairs in spite of the physical dissuasion of
her governess.

"I WON'T go home to lunch!" screamed Miss Rennsdale, her voice
accompanied by a sound of ripping. "I WILL hear the tattooed wild boy