“I say, Uncle Herb, what about the Follies to-night? I’ve got a couple of seats,—and I know your tastes——”
“Front row?”
“No; couldn’t corral those,—but good ones, in the fourth.”
“Nay, nay, Pauline. I don’t see well enough to sit so far back. Use those yourself, Richard,—take your aunt, here! But I’ll find a seat in the front row,—in some front row, if I have to buy their bloomin’ theater to get it!”
“Good for you, Sir Herbert!” exclaimed Miss Prall, who admired determination wherever she met it. “I’ll go with you. I like the front row, too.”
“Sorry, madam, but I’m not taking guests.” He winked at Richard.
“Naturally not,” Miss Letitia sniffed. “I know why you want to go alone,—I know why you want the front row! You’re going to attract a chorus girl, and invite her to supper with you.”
“Marvelous, Holmes, marvelous!” Sir Herbert exclaimed, with mock amazement. “I am surprised at your clairvoyance, ma’am, but deeply pained that you should know of and be so familiar with such goings on. Do you learn of that sort of thing from your nephew? Really, Richard, I’m amazed at you!”
“Nonsense, Uncle Bin, I passed through that stage long ago. I used to girl around in my callow days, but I got fed up with it, and now life holds more worthwhile temptations. It’s an old story to auntie, too. Why she used to chaperon my giddiest parties,—bless her!”
Sir Herbert’s sharp eyes looked from one of his companions to the other.