"What kind of a show are they goin' to give?" he asked.
"Scenes from the classics," replied Mr. Blake.
"Is it a good play?" Sam innocently inquired. Mr. Blake began to explain, but before he had finished the door was opened and Ezra Tweedie came in.
"Evenin', Ezra," said Peter Stout, from his seat on the counter.
"Good evening, gentlemen," replied Ezra, with a queer little nod, and then giving Peter a slip of paper, added, "Kindly put up those things for me, Mr. Stout."
"Certain," said Peter, as he slid off the counter.
While waiting for his order to be put up, Ezra sat down with the group of tobacco slaves. Ezra did not smoke himself, his health would not permit it, so he said, but everybody knew that the disapproval of Aurelia Scraggs Tweedie was all that kept him from the use of the seductive narcotic. He liked to be smoked, however, and was always delighted when his wife sent him to the store in the evening. And the men, the smokers, liked Ezra—and pitied him.
"How's things with you, Ezra?" asked Sam when Ezra was comfortably seated.
"About the same, thank you," Ezra cheerfully replied.
"Here's the man," Sam went on, "that can tell us all about the woman's club, can't you, Ezra?"