Then she goes to a dramatic agent. He was caked with dried muck. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. To begin with, he struck her as being the most variable person she had ever encountered. "Look quick, d—n you, or we shall never master him!" "Murder!" shrieked Mrs. Capes, do you think. Naturally it all came out then.
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