"The public."
"But it's a question for the management entirely. The public have nothing to do with it."
"I don't know about that," argued Harry. "The public pay, and they think they shouldn't."
"Why?" snapped Lowndes; and it became disagreeably apparent that his lust for combat had revived.
"Well, they think they pay quite enough for their places without any extras afterwards, such as a fee for programmes. They say you might as well be charged for the bill-of-fare when you dine at a restaurant. But their great point seems to be that if half-a-dozen good theatres can do without fees all good theatres can. They call them an imposition."
"Rubbish," snorted Lowndes, in so offensive a manner that Harry could say no more; he was therefore surprised when, after a little general conversation in which Lowndes had not joined, the latter leant across to him with all the twinkling symptoms of his liveliest moments.
"I presume," said he, "that all the row last night was kicked up by the pit and gallery?"
"So I gathered."
"Ah! What they want is a remonstrance from the stalls. There would be some sense in that."
There were no more disagreeables at the hotel, and none with either of the cabmen outside the theatre. All at once Lowndes seemed to have grown unnaturally calm and sedate, Harry could not imagine why. But only too soon he knew.