The little one listened to his inflections as a kitten does, and at last
lifted its arms in sign of surrender.
The mother's face cleared up a little. "I declare, she wants to go to
you."
"'Course she does. Dogs and kittens always come to me when I call
'em. Why shouldn't my own niece come?"
He took the little one and began walking up and down the kitchen
with her, while she pulled at his beard and nose. "I ought to have
you, my lady, in my new comedy. You'd bring down the house."
"You don't mean to say you put babies on the stage, Howard," said
his mother in surprise.
"Oh, yes. Domestic comedy must have a baby these days."
"Well, that's another way of makin' a livin', sure," said Grant. The
baby had cleared the atmosphere a little. "I s'pose you fellers make
a pile of money."
"Sometimes we make a thousand a week; oftener we don't."
"A thousand dollars!" They all stared.
"A thousand dollars sometimes, and then lose it all the next week
in another town. The dramatic business is a good deal like
gambling-you take your chances."
"I wish you weren't in it, Howard. I don't like to have my son-"
"I wish I was in somethin' that paid better'n farmin'.
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