"I sat in the upper gallery."
"To-night you shall be fashionable. Have you a pair of kid gloves?"
"The last pair I had is worn out," said Tony, laughing.
"Then you must have another pair. We will get a pair on our way there."
It was already time to start.
At eight o'clock Tony found himself occupying an orchestra chair near the stage, his hands encased in a pair of gloves of faultless fit, and looking enough like a young patrician to pass muster among his fashionable neighbors.
"How does it seem, Tony?" asked Spencer, smiling.
"Tip-top," answered Tony: "but how queer kid gloves feel. I never had a pair on in my life before."
"There are the two ladies who found fault with your appearance at the breakfast table this morning."
"They are looking at me through an opera-glass."