'Who's that?' inquired Addie and Esther eagerly.
'I think he calls himself Sidney Graham; but that, of course, is only a nom de pinceau.'
'Oh!' said the girls, with a reproachful smile.
'Do be serious,' said Esther. 'Who is that stout gentleman with the bald head?' She peered down curiously at the stalls through her opera-glass.
'What, the lion without the mane? That's Tom Day, the dramatic critic of a dozen papers. A terrible Philistine! Lucky for Shakespeare he didn't flourish in Elizabethan times!'
He rattled on till the curtain rose, and the hushed audience settled down to the enjoyment of the tragedy.
'This looks as if it is going to be the true Hamlet,' said Esther, after the first act.
'What do you mean by the true Hamlet?' queried Sidney cynically.
'The Hamlet for whom life is at once too big and too little,' said Esther.
'And who was at once mad and sane,' laughed Sidney. 'The plain truth is that Shakespeare followed the old tale, and what you take for subtlety is but the blur of uncertain handling. Aha! you look shocked. Have I found your religion at last?'