As Philip and the professor passed along the principal street, they saw various stores of different kinds, with here and there a large, high, plain-looking structure, which they were told was used for the manufacture of shoes.

“Wilkesville will give us a large audience,” he said, in a tone of satisfaction.

“I hope so,” said our hero.

“Hope so? I know so!” said the professor confidently. “The town is full of young men, employed in shoe-making. They are fond of amusement, and they will gladly seize an opportunity of patronizing a first-class entertainment like ours.”

The professor's reasoning seemed good, but logic¹ sometimes fails, and Philip was not quite so sanguine². He said nothing, however, to dampen the ardor³ of his partner.

“Let me see,” said the professor, pausing, “yonder stands the Wilkesville Hotel. We had better put up there.”

It was a brick structure of considerable size, and seemed to have some pretensions⁴ to fashion.

“Do you know how much they charge?” asked Philip prudently⁵.

“No; I neither know nor care,” answered Professor Riccabocca loftily.

“But,” said Philip, “I haven't much money.”

“Nor I,” admitted Riccabocca. “But it is absolutely necessary for us to stop at a first-class place. We must not let the citizens suppose that we are tramps or vagabonds. They will judge us by our surroundings.”

“There is something in that,” said Philip. “But suppose we don't succeed!”

“Succeed? We must succeed!” said the professor, striking an attitude. “In the vocabulary of youth, there's no such word as 'fail'! Away with timid caution! Our watchword be success!”

“Of course, you have much more experience than I,” said Philip.

“Certainly I have! We must keep up appearances. Be guided by me, and all will come right.”

Philip reflected that they could not very well make less than their expenses, and accordingly he

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