He took up his position with Harold at the foot of the splendid staircase of the theatre, where the people chatted together while waiting for their carriages.
With scarcely an exception, the remarks had a hearing upon the performance of “Cymbeline.” Only two ladies confined their criticisms to their respective medical advisers.
Of the others, one man said that Mrs. Mowbray bore a striking resemblance to her photographs.
A second said that she was the most beautiful woman in England.
A third said that she knocked sparks out of Polly Floss in the same line of business. (Polly Floss was the leading exponent of burlesque).
One woman said that Mrs. Mowbray was most picturesquely dressed.
A second said that she was most picturesquely undressed.
A third wondered if Liberty had got the exact tint of the robe that Mrs. Mowbray had worn in the second act.
“And yet some people say that there’s no appreciation of Shakespeare in England!” said Archie, as he led Harold round the stalls, over which the attendants were spreading covers, and on to Mrs. Mowbray’s private rooms.
“From the crowds that went out by every door, I judge that the theatre is making money, at any rate; and I suppose that’s the most practical test of appreciation,” said Harold.