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That gentleman in the white hat and checked shirt, brown coat and brass buttons, lounging behind the stage-box on the O. P. side, is Mr. Horatio St. Julien, alias Jem Larkins. His line is genteel comedy—his father’s, coal and potato. He does Alfred Highflier in the last piece, and very well he’ll do it—at the price.
"Well, that's what I am, kid, big and strong and tough." "Oh, no, Dan, no!" said Freddy. "You're not tough at all, and you mustn't say so when you go to a girl's party, Dan." "Well, I won't," said Dan, as he thought of the violet eyes that would open in dismay at such a confession. "I'll play the highflier to-night if I can, kid; though it's a new game with Dan Dolan, I must say."
"For what was Jack Andrews noted throughout Europe?" inquired Mr. Merrick, after silently considering these things. "Well, he was a highflier, for one thing." answered Le Drieux. "He was known as a thorough 'sport' and, I am told, a clever gambler. He had a faculty of making friends, even among the nobility.
"Thur ain't no palace hotel round these diggin's, ef that's what you mean," the man leered at her. "You c'n come along t' camp 'ith me ef you ain't too stuck up." "To camp!" faltered Margaret in dismay, wondering what her mother would say. "Are there any ladies there?" A loud guffaw greeted her question. "Wal, my woman's thar, sech es she is; but she ain't no highflier like you.
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