mous Auditorium, the scene of last week's sensational triple murder! Please remember that there is no charge for admission to patrons of the company. Just show your coupons, ladies and gentlemen, and walk right ahead."
The passengers began to pour from the long seats to the ground. The Flopper's hat was in his hand.
"Fer God's sake, gents an' ladies, don't pass me by," he cried piteously. "I could work once, but look at me now—I was run over by a fire truck. God bring pity to yer hearts—youse have money fer pleasure, spare something fer me."
The first man down from the seat halted and stared at the twisted, unsightly thing before him, and, with a little gasp, reached into his pocket and dropped a bill into the Flopper's hat.
"God bless you!" stammered the Flopper—and the tears sprang swimming to his eyes.
The first man passed on with a gruff, "Oh, all right," but he had left an example behind him that few of his fellow passengers ignored.
"T'ank you, mum," mumbled the Flopper, as the money dropped into his hat "God reward you, sir … Ah, miss, may you never know a tear … 'Twas heaven brought you 'ere to-night, lady."
They passed, following the guide. The Flopper scooped the money into a pile in his hat, began to tuck it away in some recess of his shirt—when a hand was thrust suddenly under his nose.
