Why, I've heard that Harry Smith--writes the
words for these musical comedies--makes a _mint_ of money."
"Mr. Poppins ought to help you in it--he's seen such a lot of
plays," Mrs. Arty anxiously advised.
"That's a good idea," said Mr. Wrenn. It had, apparently, been
ordained that he was to write it. They were now settling
important details. So when Nelly cried, "I think it's just a
fine idea; I knew you had lots of imagination," Tom interrupted
her with:
"No; you write it, Bill. I'll help you all I can, of course....
Tell you what you ought to do: get hold of Teddem--he's had a
lot of stage experience; he'd help you about seeing the managers.
That 'd be the hard part--you can write it, all right, but you'd
have to get next to the guys on the inside, and Teddem--Say,
you cer_tain_ly ought to write this thing, Bill. Might make a lot
of money."
"Oh, a lot!" breathed Nelly.
"Heard about a fellow," continued Tom--" fellow named Gene
Wolf, I think it was--that was so broke he was sleeping in
Bryant Park, and he made a _hundred thousand dollars_ on his
first play--or, no; tell you how it was: he sold it outright for
ten thousand--something like that, anyway.
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