"It is The Castle Spectre," he said graciously. "Would you like to see it?"
"But it is half over—"
"Oh, no," said da Costa, scanning the play bill. "There was a farce by O'Keefe to start with. The night is yet young. The drama will be just beginning."
"But it is de Sabbath—ve must not pay."
Manasseh's brow clouded again in wrathful righteous surprise. "Did you think I was going to pay?" he gasped.
"N-n-no," stammered the Pole, abashed. "But you haven't got no orders?"
"Orders? Me? Will you do me the pleasure of accepting a seat in my box?"
"In your box?"
"Yes, there is plenty of room. Come this way," said Manasseh. "I haven't been to the play myself for over a year. I am too busy always. It will be an agreeable change."
Yankelé hung back, bewildered.