“I like it over on the right,” whispered Patricia, as they entered the darkened house. “Just follow me,” she added, ignoring the usher completely and hurrying down a side aisle. She was a bit careless in stepping up into a row of seats, and turned on her ankle. To save herself a fall, she grabbed madly at the seat in front of her, which was occupied by a very large and very dignified-looking man. Instead of grasping the back of his seat, as she intended, her hand came down very forcibly on the top of his bald head.
“Ouch!” he cried out in astonishment and discomfort.
Everybody within hearing turned around. Several people exclaimed in annoyance. Some nearby, who had witnessed the incident, laughed aloud. In the general disturbance, the girls managed to sink into their seats quite overcome with embarrassment. Presently Anne hid her face in her hands and began to quiver.
“What is the matter?” whispered Patricia.
Anne only shook her head, and Patricia realized that the girl was in a paroxysm of laughter. It was contagious, and before long Pat and Katharine were in the same state.
“Stop that!” ordered Jane. “Think of something sad, and do it quick.”
With much effort and several relapses they finally succeeded in pulling themselves together, and fixed their eyes determinedly on the screen, not daring to glance at one another.
“That was just terrible!” exclaimed Jane in mock anger, when they were out upon the street again. “I’ll never go to a movie with you again, Patricia Randall!”
“I’m—awfully—sorry,” gasped Pat.
“You certainly act as if you were, quite overcome with grief,” said Anne.