Next door were shops of Japanese and Chinese
goods presided over by suave, sleepy-eyed Orientals, in wonderful
brocade, wearing the close cap with the red coral button atop. Shooting
galleries spit spitefully. Gasolene torches flared.
Baker strolled along, his hands in his pockets, his hat on the back of
his head. From time to time he cast an amused glance at his companion.
"Come in here," he said abruptly.
Bob found himself comfortably seated in a commodious open-air theatre,
watching an excellent vaudeville performance. He enjoyed it thoroughly,
for it was above the average. In fifteen minutes, however, the last
soubrette disappeared in the wings to the accompaniment of a swirl of
music. Her place was taken by a tall, facetious-looking, bald
individual, clad in a loose frock coat. He held up his hand for silence.
"Ladies 'n' gentlemen," he drawled, "we hope you have enjoyed
yourselves. If you find a better show than this in any theatre in town,
barring the Orpheum, come and tell us about it and we will see what we
can do to brace ours up. I don't believe you can. This show will be
repeated every afternoon and evening, with complete change of programme
twice a week.
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