CHAPTER XIV.
AL'S AD.
Mr. Marcus' words haunted Al for some time after their parting.
"I don't know but there is something in that," the boy said to himself:"I'll look out for the lucky accidents after this."
But the full-page advertisement had to be prepared in less than an hour,and Al had to turn his attention to its preparation.
When he went to his room he had not the slightest idea what sort of anadvertisement he was going to write; he only knew that it must besomething taking and brief.
"Brevity is the soul of wit, anyhow," he reflected, "so I don't believeI shall make any mistake on that point. But what shall I say in the ad.?I wonder if I haven't bitten off a little more than I can chew?"
In half an hour he had the advertisement ready, and a few minutes laterhe presented himself with it at the office of the _Bugle_.
Here everything was in confusion, but he found the foreman of thecomposing room ready and waiting for him.
"Have you got your copy all ready?" asked the man, nervously. "There isno time to spare."
"Here it is," said Al, producing a slip of paper from his vest pocket.
"I thought you were to have a full page?" said the foreman.
"So I am, according to contract," smiled the boy.
"But there are only half a dozen lines here."
"That's all."
"Oh, you want a display ad.?"
"No--at least not the kind you mean. I want those few lines repeatedover and over again until the entire space contracted for is filled."
"You want it printed solid?" gasped the foreman.
"That's it."
"But I could give you a much more attractive ad. We can get up afull-page display ad. that would be simply out of sight."
"I don't doubt it, but I want another kind."
"All right," said the foreman, with a pitying sigh; "you pay your moneyand you take your choice."
"That's the idea."
The foreman carefully perused the advertisement. This is what he read:
"See the New York Comedy Company, Augustus Wattles, Manager.
"See this great company in 'Loved and Lost.'
"See the real locomotive, under a full head of steam.
"See the real steam yacht.
"See all this.
"But----
"Please don't look at the queer old man in the third row of theorchestra."
The foreman stared at Al as if he thought him an escaped lunatic.
"That's a strange ad.," he said.
"Is it?" laughed the boy.
"I never saw anything like it before."
"Well?"
"Well, do you want it to go in just as you have written it?"
"I do."
"Without any attempt at display?"
"Without the slightest attempt at display."
"That goes, then. Good-night; I must get the men at work on this atonce."
"I've done all this on my own responsibility," reflected Al, as he leftthe place. "If it turns out a fizzle, Mr. Wattles won't have so muchconfidence in me in the future. Well, there's no use fretting now; thething is done. If it doesn't work I shall know enough not to repeat theexperiment."
Still Al did fret a little after he got to his room. The apartment thathad been assigned to him was a large, gloomy room on one of the upperfloors of the building. It was about half filled with paintings nothung, but standing against the wall. These, the hotel clerk hadexplained, were the property of an impecunious artist who had formerlyboarded in the house, and were being held until his bill was paid.
"We left them right there," explained the clerk, "not thinking that wewould need to put anyone in the room for some time. But on account ofthe rush to the circus the house is full, and we must put you there."
It made very little difference to Al where he slept, and he said so. Hewas only going to spend one night in the house, and the room wascomfortable, if it was rather gloomy.
Entering it after his visit to the _Bugle_ office, he threw himself intoa chair and fixed his eyes on a full-length picture of a man in moderndress. He did not even take the trouble to light the gas.
The rays of the moon dimly illumined the room and lighted up thepicture. The boy sat for nearly half an hour staring absently at theportrait, thinking nothing about it, but trying to plan his work for thenext day or two.
But soon he began to realize that he was very tired. He found himselfyawning, and his eyelids drooped in spite of himself.
"It's no use," he said to himself, "I'll have to leave business untilto-morrow. I'll go to bed."
But just as he rose from his chair--could he believe the evidence of hissenses?--the figure of the man stepped from the canvas and approachedhim.
It was no dream, for in an instant the boy was as wide awake as he hadever been.
Apparently the picture had come to life!