“Rollo,” he said, “this is my friend, Mr. Ross, who is going to dine and go to the theatre with us. He is a member of the old Shaker Colony.”
“Is it so?” said Rollo. “There are a number of Shakers living near my home in the country. One of them has made several comforters for my mother.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Ross. “And I have made a number of comforters for your uncle, have I not, George?”
“Indeed you have,” said Rollo’s uncle, and together they walked upstairs to a splendid room, where they all dined together very merrily. Rollo stood for a moment beside his chair expecting that his Uncle George would ask a blessing, but Uncle George evidently forgot to do so and bade Rollo sit down and fall to, which he did.
“Have you been to the theatre, often, Rollo?” asked Mr. Ross, while they were eating dinner.
“No, not exactly,” replied Rollo. “My mother took me to Boston two years ago, and I saw a very wonderful panorama of the battle of Gettysburg. But that is not exactly the theatre, is it?”
“Not exactly,” said Mr. Ross, “though I am sure some of the plays in New York are much worse than any battle.”
“What play are we to see, Uncle George?” asked Rollo. “Is it to be Shakespere?”
“No,” answered Uncle George. “I hardly thought Shakespere would be lively enough. You see, Rollo, the plays in New York are divided into two groups. There are the very serious plays acted by great people which all the critics say are great successes. But unfortunately, no one goes to see them. Then there are the very silly comedies about people in bath-tubs, which the critics say are very low and wicked and which everyone flocks to see. That is the kind we are going to see.”