"How do you mean, madam?" asked the powdered man.
"This is my private box, and you may see my name on the outside of it."
The party in great haste produced three bone-tickets, which they had purchased for eight shillings each at Mr. Ebers's.
"They are the three tickets I am in the habit of disposing of every night. Lady Castlereagh does the same thing; but nobody ever thinks of intruding their society on me here. The tickets are sold for the pit."
"For the pit indeed!" said one of the ladies with indignation, "the pit! whoever heard tell of such a thing! You're much more fitter ma'am, for aught I know, to go into the pit yourself than we are. Is our dress a pit-dress or a gallery-dress ma'am?"
"I fancy, madam, you are thinking of the play or Astley's. You are not accustomed to the Opera I see, or you would not fancy anything too fine for the pit. I assure you, you will all three cut a brilliant figure there," said I.
A little Captain Churchill, of the Guards, came into my box at this moment, and opened his little eyes as wide as his astonishment could stretch them, at seeing my party.
"Mr. Churchill, these two ladies have bought my tickets of Ebers, and they insist on taking up the front of my box."
"Oh madam," said Churchill, addressing the eldest, "you really must not expect to make such a very magnificent appearance for only eight shillings."