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Show Til Wis Gag. Not long ago Primrose and West's minstrels min-strels were playing in a small town down south. Manager Truss was on the door, as usual, looking out for the people who try to crowd their way into shows in oue night stands without going through the formality of purchasing tickets. Primrose Prim-rose stood with him, as he is not obliged to appear until some time after the curtain cur-tain goes up. A very genteel looking, bald headed man, who had bought a gallery gal-lery ticket, came down and said to Truss: "Excuse me, sir, but I see some friends downstairs here. I would like to run in and speak to them a moment." He was so polite about it that he was allowed to pass in. The usual formality of asking for a permit was waived. But the 'man did not come out. "Go iu and see if you can see him, George," said Truss, and Primrose went in to take a look. "I'd know that bald head among a thousand," he said. But he could not see a bald headed man in the house. He hurried back, blacked up and went on the end. While he sat there he looked around for the bald headed interloper, but ho was nowhere to be seen. As soon as he was through, which was long before be-fore the show was over, he hurriedly washed off the burnt cork and went back to join Truss. "Find him yet?" he asked. "No," replied Truss, disconsolately. "He's the first man vho has beaten me this season." Then the two watched the audience as it filed out. Suddenly Primrose Prim-rose nudged Truss and said: "There he is," pointing out a curly haired individual individ-ual with two ladies. "Guess you're wrong," said Truss. "No, I'm not," said Primrose; "he'sgot a wigon." And sure enough he had. "Well, let him alone," sajl Truss. "He deserves it. No one has ever fried the wig gag on me at the door before. "Chicago Herald. |
