To make sure that he would keep his lecture appointment, Bok decided to go to Camden with him.Field and Cable were to appear alternately.
Field went on for his first number; and when he came off, he turned to Bok and said: "No use, Bok, I'm a sick man.I must go home.Cable can see this through," and despite every protestation Field bundled himself into his overcoat and made for his carriage."Sick, Bok, really sick,"he muttered as they rode along.Then seeing a fruit-stand he said: "Buy me a bag of oranges, like a good fellow.They'll do me good.
When Philadelphia was reached, he suggested: "Do you know I think it would do me good to go and see Frank in the new play? Tell the driver to go to the theatre like a good boy." Of course, that had been his intent all along! When the theatre was reached he insisted upon taking the oranges with him."They'll steal 'em if you leave 'em there," he said.
Field lost all traces of his supposed illness the moment he reached the box.Francis Wilson was on the stage with Marie Jansen."Isn't it beautiful?" said Field, and directing the attention of the party to the players, he reached under his chair for the bag of oranges, took one out, and was about to throw it at Wilson when Bok caught his arm, took the orange away from him, and grabbed the bag.Field never forgave Bok for this act of watchfulness."Treason," he hissed--"going back on a friend."The one object of Field's ambition was to achieve the distinction of so "fussing" Francis Wilson that he would be compelled to ring down the curtain.He had tried every conceivable trick: had walked on the stage in one of Wilson's scenes; had started a quarrel with an usher in the audience--everything that ingenuity could conceive he had practised on his friend.Bok had known this penchant of Field's, and when he insisted on taking the bag of oranges into the theatre, Field's purpose was evident!
One day Bok received a wire from Field: "City of New Orleans purposing give me largest public reception on sixth ever given an author.Event of unusual quality.Mayor and city officials peculiarly desirous of having you introduce me to vast audience they propose to have.Hate to ask you to travel so far, but would be great favor to me.Wire answer." Bok wired back his willingness to travel to New Orleans and oblige his friend.It occurred to Bok, however, to write to a friend in New Orleans and ask the particulars.Of course, there was never any thought of Field going to New Orleans or of any reception.Bok waited for further advices, and a long letter followed from Field giving him a glowing picture of the reception planned.Bok sent a message to his New Orleans friend to be telegraphed from New Orleans on the sixth: "Find whole thing to be a fake.Nice job to put over on me.Bok." Field was overjoyed at the apparent success of his joke and gleefully told his Chicago friends all about it--until he found out that the joke had been on him."Durned dirty, I call it," he wrote Bok.
It was a lively friendship that Eugene Field gave to Edward Bok, full of anxieties and of continuous forebodings, but it was worth all that it cost in mental perturbation.No rarer friend ever lived: in his serious moments he gave one a quality of unforgetable friendship that remains a precious memory.But his desire for practical jokes was uncontrollable:
it meant being constantly on one's guard, and even then the pranks could not always be thwarted!
