found their seats. The penguins followed in an orderly fashion.
“Say, mister,” said the driver, “where do you think you’re going with that exhibit?”
“Downtown,” said Mr. Popper. “Here, let’s call it fifty cents, and let it go at that.”
“To tell the truth, I lost count when they went past me,” said the driver.
“It’s a trained penguin act,” explained Mr. Popper.
“Are they really birds?” asked the driver.
“Oh yes,” said Mr. Popper. “I’m just taking them down to the Palace to interview Mr. Greenbaum, the big theater owner.”
“Well, if I hear any complaints, off they go at the next corner,” said the driver.
“Fair enough,” said Mr. Popper, who wanted to ask for transfers in that case, but decided to let well enough alone.
The penguins were behaving very well. They were sitting quietly two in a seat, while the other passengers looked on.
“Sorry,” said Mr. Popper, addressing everyone in the bus, “but I’ll have to open all the windows. These are Antarctic penguins and they’re used to having it a lot colder than this.”
It took Mr. Popper quite a while to open the windows, which were stuck fast. When he had succeeded, there were plenty of remarks from the other passengers. Many of them began to complain to the driver, who told Mr. Popper to take his birds off the bus. He had to repeat this several times. Finally he refused to take the bus any farther until Mr. Popper got off. By this time, however, the bus had got so far downtown that none of them minded having to get out into the street.
Only a block ahead of them shone the lights of the Palace Theater.
“Hello,” said the theater manager, as the Poppers and the penguins trooped past him. “Sure, Mr. Greenbaum’s here in my office. You know I’ve heard about these birds of yours, but I didn’t really believe it. Mr. Greenbaum, meet the Popper Penguins. I’ll be leaving you. I’ve got to go backstage.”
The penguins, now standing politely in two rows of six each, looked curiously at Mr. Greenbaum. Their twenty-four white-circled eyes were very solemn.
“All you people crowding around the door, go back where you belong,” said Mr. Greenbaum. “This is a private conference.” Then he got up to shut the door.
The Poppers sat down while Mr. Greenbaum walked up and down the double row of penguins, looking them over.
“It looks like an act,” he said.
“Oh, it’s an act, all right,” said Mr. Popper. “It’s Popper’s Performing Penguins, First Time on any Stage, Direct from the South Pole.” He and Mrs. Popper had thought up this name for the act
“Couldn’t we call them Popper’s Pink-toed Penguins?” asked Mr. Greenbaum.
Mr. Popper thought for a moment. “No,” he said, “I’m afraid we couldn’t. That sounds too much like chorus girls or ballet dancers, and these birds are pretty serious. I don’t think they’d like it.”
“All right,” said Mr. Greenbaum. “Show me the act.”
“There’s music to it,” said Janie. “Mamma plays the piano.”
“Is that true, madam?” asked Mr. Greenbaum.
“Yes, sir,” answered Mrs. Popper.
“Well, there’s a piano behind you,” said Mr. Greenbaum. “You may begin, madam. I want to see this act. If it’s any good, you people have come to the right place. I’ve got theaters from coast to coast. But first let’s see your penguins perform. Ready, madam?”
“We’d better move the furniture first,” said Bill.
Chapter XV
Popper’s Performing Penguins
A T THAT MOMENT they were interrupted by the manager, who came in with a groan.
“What’s the matter?” asked Mr. Greenbaum.
“The Marvelous Marcos, who close the program, haven’t turned up, and the audience are demanding their money back.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Mr. Greenbaum.
“Give it to them, I suppose. And here it is Saturday night, the biggest night of the week. I hate to think of losing all that money.”
“I have an idea,” said