THE TALKING HORSE
BY JOHN T. McINTYRE
Upon a fence across the way was posted a "twenty-four sheet block
stand," and along the top, in big red letters, it read:
"_H. Wellington Sheldon Presents_"
Then followed the names of a half dozen famous operatic stars.
Bat Scranton sat regarding it silently for a long time; but after he had
placed himself behind his third big cigar he joined in the talk.
"In fifteen years dubbing about this great and glorious," said he, "I
never run across a smoother piece of goods than old Cap. Sheldon. To see
him, now, in his plug hat, frock coat and white English whiskers, you'd
spot him as the main squeeze in a prosperous bank. He's doing the
Frohman stunt, too," and Bat nodded toward the poster, "and he handles
it with exceeding grace. When I see him after the curtain falls upon a
bunch of Verdi or Wagner stuff, come out and bow his thanks to a house
full of the town's swellest, and throw out a little spiel with an
aristocratic accent, I always think of the time when I first met him.
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