"Couldn't you make it two? I would like to take a friend."
"Has your friend consumption, too?" I asked, solicitously.
"N—no—not yet," faltered the man.
"Ah! then, I'm afraid I can't accommodate your friend. You see, I never give passes except to persons with the consumption."
Some people think there is little in a name, but I'm a great believer in an attractive title. I could mention scores of reasons for thinking as I do, and you can better believe I'm not alone in this thing.
Passing the Academy of Music a short time ago, one matinee day, I met my friend Shackleford coming out, and the play only half over.
"What is the matter?" I asked; "play bad?"
"No," he replied, "but it is too hot in there; the house is literally packed with women. You see it's the name—'Ninety and Nine'—that catches them. Why, it's better than an actual horse-race or a locomotive, to draw. They fancy that the admission has been marked down from a dollar and can't resist the bargain."
Whenever I meet Chauncey Billings on Broadway the sparks are sure to fly in the fireworks display of dry wit that passes between us, just as though you struck flint and steel smartly.
The other day he approached, looking very happy, as though anticipating overwhelming me, so being forwarned I prepared to resist boarders.