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Parker Hoyt's aunt, the magnificent old Lady Frothingham, had been just enough of an invalid for the twenty years preceding her death to need a nurse or a companion, or a social secretary, or someone who was a little of all three.
The play is Hoyt's 'A Trip to Chinatown. Listen: "'Oh, the Bowery, the Bowery, They say such things and they do such things On the Bowery, "Or maybe it's: "'You will think she's going to faint, But she'll fool you, for she ain't; She has been there many times before."
"The ancient relic of yore family was aheading towards Hoyt's Corners," the stranger replied, grinning broadly. "It's a long walk. Have something before you starts?" "Damn the walk! Who was riding him?" "Nobody at all." "What do you mean?" "He wasn't being rid when I saw him." "Hang it, man; that cayuse was stole from me!"
"I was sure of the dog." "Miss Van Hoyt's?" "Yes!" He caught up the passengers list. There was no such name there. "If it is she," he said quietly, "she is here to watch you! It proves nothing else. I shall be seasick all the way over, and at New York we must part. Go to the purser's office and find out, Courage. There is no reason why you shouldn't. You are interested, of course?"
Darling told the boys that Mr. Hoyt was "fresh" or not, will, perhaps, never be known; but, as Mr. Hoyt passed around among the slabs where they were at work, each made a contribution from the "stiff" he was at work upon to Mr. Hoyt's coat pockets unbeknown to him.
They give the people that which the people will pay to see. Nobody cares anything for tragedy any longer. Stage classics have become stage stalenesses. Shakespeare is out of date. "The Gaiety Girls," "In Gay New York," "The Merry World," Hoyt's buffooneries, "Problem Plays," social eraticisms have become the rage.
That thief will get what's coming to him, all right." While Hopalong tried to find his horse, Ben Ferris pushed forward, circling steadily to the east and away from the direction of Hoyt's corners, which was as much a menace to his health and happiness as the town of Grant, twenty miles to his rear.
However, as luck would have it, and Hoyt's luck never had been good, his employer asked one day what had become of those photographs. Hoyt tried to evade making an answer, but the effort was futile, and he had to get out the finished prints and exhibit them. The older man sat staring at them a long time.
But let me recapitulate it," he said, resuming in a businesslike voice: "When I met her at Hoyt's wedding I knew right away that we had a personality to deal with something rare! I remember thinking then that it would be interesting to see whom she cared for, what that volcanic little heart would be in love Time went on; we saw more of her.
There were bewitching beauty and serenity in the scene before her, and as Charon nestled his great head against her hand she found it very difficult to realize the fact that she had left this lovely retreat for the small room at Mrs. Hoyt's boarding house.
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