1.

　　Otis Pilkington had left Atlantic City two hours after the conferencewhich had followed the dress rehearsal, firmly resolved never to gonear "The Rose of America" again. He had been wounded in his finestfeelings. There had been a moment, when Mr Goble had given him thechoice between having the piece rewritten and cancelling theproduction altogether, when he had inclined to the heroic course. Butfor one thing, Mr Pilkington would have defied the manager, refusedto allow his script to be touched, and removed the play from hishands. That one thing was the fact that, up to the day of the dressrehearsal, the expenses of the production had amounted to theappalling sum of thirty-two thousand eight hundred and fifty-ninedollars, sixty-eight cents, all of which had to come out of MrPilkington's pocket. The figures, presented to him in a neatlytypewritten column stretching over two long sheets of paper, hadstunned him. He had had no notion that musical plays cost so much.

　　The costumes alone had come to ten thousand six hundred andsixty-three dollars and fifty cents, and somehow that odd fifty centsannoyed Otis Pilkington as much as anything on the list. A darksuspicion that Mr Goble, who had seen to all the executive end of thebusiness, had a secret arrangement with the costumer whereby hereceived a private rebate, deepened his gloom. Why, for ten thousandsix hundred and sixty-three dollars and fifty cents you could dressthe whole female population of New York State and have a bit leftover for Connecticut. So thought Mr Pilkington, as he read the badnews in the train. He only ceased to brood upon the high cost ofcostuming when in the next line but one there smote his eye an itemof four hundred and ninety-eight dollars for "Clothing." Clothing!

　　Weren't costumes clothing? Why should he have to pay twice over forthe same thing? Mr Pilkington was just raging over this, whensomething lower down in the column caught his eye. It was thewords:--Clothing . . . 187.45At this Otis Pilkington uttered a stifled cry, so sharp and soanguished that an old lady in the next seat, who was drinking a glassof milk, dropped it and had to refund the railway company thirty-fivecents for breakages. For the remainder of the journey she sat withone eye warily on Mr Pilkington, waiting for his next move.

　　This misadventure quieted Otis Pilkington down, if it did not soothehim. He returned blushingly to a perusal of his bill of costs, nearlyevery line of which contained some item that infuriated and dismayedhim. "Shoes" ($213.50) he could understand, but what on earth was"Academy. Rehl. $105.50"? What was "Cuts . . . $15"? And what in thename of everything infernal was this item for "Frames," in whichmysterious luxury he had apparently indulged to the extent ofninety-four dollars and fifty cents? "Props" occurred on the list nofewer than seventeen times. Whatever his future, at whateverpoor-house he might spend his declining years, he was supplied withenough props to last his lifetime.