“Lord save us!” ejaculated Miss Tabby.
“Are you going to direct me to a dressing-room?”
“Yes, sure, as soon as I know what sort of a one you want. Are you a gentleman’s death, or a lady’s?” faltered Joe, who could by no means command his nerves.
“I am a lady’s death!” replied the stranger, in a tone so grim that Miss Tabby ejaculated:
“Heaven have mercy on us!”
Joe was about to direct the stranger to the ladies’ dressing-rooms, when his attention was suddenly diverted by the arrival of a crowd of “knights,” “Indians,” “Welsh bards,” “grisettes,” “Greek slaves,” et cætera, who demanded immediate service. The usher divided them according to their sexes, and then noticed that the ghastly figure of “Death” joined the gentlemen’s party and accompanied them to their dressing-room.