"Isn't that so, Mr. Thane?"
"Quite," agreed Courtney. "You get fed up with 'em."
"I remember once when I was in New York going six nights in succession,
seeing all the best things on the boards at that time, and I give
you my word," said Miss Grady, "they DID feed me up terribly."
"I know just what you mean, Miss Grady," said Courtney, without
cracking a smile. "One gets so bored with the best plays in town.
What one really ought to do, you know, is to go to the worst ones."
"I've always wanted to see 'The Blue Bird,'" said Miss Miller
wistfully. "It's by Maeterlinck, Mr. Nichols."
Old Mr. Nichols looked interested. "You don't say so," he ejaculated.
"Give me a good minstrel show,--that's what I like. Haverly's or
Barlow, Wilson, Primrose & West, or Billy Emerson's or--say, did
you ever see Luke Schoolcraft? Well, sir, there was the funniest
end man I ever see. There used to be another minstrel man
named,--er--lemme see,--now what was that feller's name? It begin
with L, I think--or maybe it was W. Now--lemme--think. Go on
talkin', the rest of you. I'll think of his name before bedtime."
Whereupon the ancient Mr. Nichols relapsed into a profound state
of thought from which he did not emerge until Mr. Webster shook
his shoulder some fifteen or twenty minutes later and informed him
that if he got any worse Mrs. Nichols would be able to hear him,
and then she couldn't go 'round telling people that he slept just
like a baby.
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