“A job?” Mulrooney sighed. “My boy, you overestimate the financial fertility of my little enterprise. I regret to disinform you of this misconception, but last night, despite significant audience attention, the like of which any entertainer in any city of substance would be pleased to inspire, I ate fish-head soup. This morning I dined on oatmeal and brine. Please accept my apology for having to deny your request.”

“Why don’t you exhibit the Ambassadors?” Lloyd asked.

“They are not yet ready,” came the answer.

“Then why don’t you let them go?”

“Where?” the showman countered, and Lloyd saw that beneath the apparent flabbiness of his character Mulrooney was a victim of his own soft heart.

“But I can do things!” Lloyd insisted. “Things that will stir the crowd.”

“Such as?” the showman queried.

“What about long division-in my head?” Lloyd demanded.

“Long division? All right.” The showman smiled sadly.

“What’s 648,065 divided by 17?”

The boy thought for a moment and then replied, “38,121.47.”

“That answer sounds as plausible as any,” Mulrooney admitted.

“It’s the right answer!” Lloyd cried. “You can check it!”

“Bravo. But this is a magic show. Bewonderment and mystification.”

“What about calculating the number of beans in a big jar?”

“My boy, the best place to hide a buffalo is in a buffalo herd, and the best way to figure the number of beans in a jar is to be the one who put them there. That’s what my business is all about. That’s why it’s vital to think there is only one woman and not twins. But these little tricks of the intellect lack the necessary appeal for public performance.”

“But I have to earn some money!” the boy cried.