At that moment an enormous curtain rose slowly, music filled the air from some hidden and mysterious source, and Rollo saw before him a picture more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before.
The name of the play which Uncle George had selected was “Shaking the Shimmy.”
It was in three acts. The first act was in the ladies’ dressing-room of a parlor car, the second was on the beach at Atlantic City, and the third was in the dormitory of a young ladies’ seminary in Greenwich. A notice on the program explained that the last act enabled the producers, two Jewish gentlemen, to have twenty beds on the stage at one time, which broke all records.
Rollo never dreamed that young ladies could be so beautiful as those who flitted about on the stage. Although he understood very little of what was said on the stage, he was tingling with excitement and sat far forward on the edge of his chair, resting his chin on the shoulder of a lady in front of him, who smiled and patted his hand.
Rollo heaved a great sigh of disappointment when the play was over. Then looking about at the audience he said, “Does it not seem strange, Uncle George, to see all these people fully clothed? I vow I had forgotten that there were such things as dresses.”
“And how did you like the play?” asked Uncle George.
“It was superb, sir,” said Rollo politely. “And much pleasanter than the ‘Battle of Gettysburg.’”
“Good,” said his uncle, “and now we shall go to supper.”
“Bless my soul!” cried Rollo. “Is not the evening over?”