“You mustn’t call it a show, Joshua,” said Sam, “or people will think you green. Say the play, or the performance.”
“Then, when does the play begin?”
“In about five minutes.”
At the time specified, the curtain rose, and Joshua’s eager attention was soon absorbed by the play. It interested him so much that he temporarily forgot how much it had cost him. He asked various questions of Sam, which led the latter to smile, though but a year before he had been quite as unsophisticated. It is not my intention, however, to follow the course of the performance. Suffice it to say that at a quarter to eleven o’clock the curtain fell, and the audience rose and made their way out of the theatre.
“How did you like it, Joshua?” asked Sam.
“First-rate,” said Joshua. “It cost a good deal, though.”
“It’s worth the money. Everything is much higher in the city than in the country.”
“In Stapleton they never charge more than twenty-five cents admittance to anything.”
“There’s some difference between Stapleton and New York.”
“I know it, but----”