SOPHIE. Well, you see that day when Mr. Becker met me here, he came to the theatre the next night to see if I really usher and he bought his ticket so late he was obliged to take a way back and sit down seat; almost under the—what do you call it?—oh, yes, the undress circle where people wear their business clothes. Just as I had shown him his place and had pushed down his seat and made him comfortable, and had given him a programme, which he had forgot to take, and was going to help him off with his overcoat, I happened to look up, and there was a big pair of opera-glasses falling down from the undress circle right towards his dear little bald spot, as if it were a bull’s-eye, and I put out my arm and it hit my arm instead of his head and made one great blue spot. It is there yet, see. (Bares arm.)
MILDRED. You saved Mr. Becker’s life and then he married you! How romantic! It is just like Edward and me, only it was Edward that saved my life that day of the Parade.
MR. BECKER. Pardon me, Miss Tilsbury, you women——
SOPHIE. Dear!
MR. BECKER. Except you, Sophie, you women all generalize from one example. Sophie did probably save my life, but Mr. Melvin can hardly be said to have saved yours.
SOPHIE. Is he not sweet? He has promised now whenever he says “you women” to make of me an exception.
MILDRED. But go on with your story, Sophie. What happened next when you had saved Mr. Becker’s head from the opera-glasses?
MRS. BROWN. Did the owner ever claim them?
SOPHIE. I don’t know. I returned them to the lost and found office. Well, my arm was so hurted that I could not usher any more this last week. How could I put out disorderly audiences with one arm laid up in a sling? Well, Mr. Becker came to see me every day with flowers and—well, love did the rest.
MILDRED. Well, dear Sophie, I am so glad you are happy.