“Right as rain! The prize-fights did it! They upset old Hendrick’s apple-cart and spilled his beans. Lots of them object to the fights because of the expense—fighters are a high-priced bunch—but I’m down on them because I think it bad form—”
“I should say so!” put in Eunice, emphatically.
“Bad form for an Athletic Club of gentlemen to have brutal exhibitions for their entertainment.”
“And what about the Motion-Picture Theatre?”
“The same there! Frightful expense,—and also rotten taste! No, the Metropolitan Athletic Club can’t stoop to such entertainments. If it were a worth-while little playhouse, now, and if they had a high class of performances, that would be another story. Hey, Aunt Abby? What do you think?”
“I don’t know, Sanford, you know I’m ignorant on such matters. But I want to ask you something. Have you read the paper to-day?”
“Why, yes, being a normal American citizen, I did run through the Battle-Ax of Freedom. Why?”
“Did you read about Hanlon—the great Hanlon?”
“Musician, statesman or criminal? I can’t seem to place a really great Hanlon. By the way, Eunice, if Hendricks blows in, ask him to stay to dinner, will you? I want to talk to him, but I don’t want to seem unduly anxious for his company.”
“Very well,” and Eunice smiled; “if I can persuade him, I will.”