"Oh, indeed!" said Nicholas; "a family, I suppose?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Crummles. "It's an affecting thing. There are six children, and they never come unless the Phenomenon plays."
It would have been difficult for any party to have visited the theatre on a night when the Phenomenon did not play, inasmuch as she always sustained one, and not uncommonly two or three characters, every night; but Nicholas, sympathizing with the feelings of a father, refrained from hinting at this trifling circumstance, and Mr. Crummies continued:
"Six,--pa and ma eight,--aunt nine,--governess ten,--grandfather and grandmother, twelve. Then, there's the footman who stands outside with a bag of oranges and a jug of toast-and-water, and sees the play for nothing through the little pane of glass in the box-door--it's cheap at a guinea; they gain by taking a box."
"I wonder you allow so many," observed Nicholas.
"There's no help for it," replied Mr. Crummles; "it's always expected in the country. If there are six children, six people come to hold them in their laps. Ring in the orchestra, Grudden!"
It was Mr. Crummles' habit to give a benefit performance, commonly called a "bespeak," to any member of his company fortunate enough to have either a birthday or any other anniversary of sufficient importance to challenge attention on the posters, and not long after Nicholas entered the company, this honor fell to the lot of one of the prominent actresses, Miss Snevellicci. Mr. Crummles then informed Nicholas that there was some work for him to do before that event took place.
"There's a little canvassing takes place on these occasions," said Mr. Crummles, "among the patrons, and the fact is, Snevellicci has had so many bespeaks in this place that she wants an attraction. She had one when her stepmother died, and when her uncle died; and Mrs. Crummles and myself have had them on the anniversary of the Phenomenon's birthday, and our wedding-day, and occasions of that description; so that, in fact, it is hard to get a good one. Now, won't you help this poor girl, Mr. Johnson, by calling with her to-morrow morning upon one or two of the principal people?"--asked the manager in a persuasive tone, adding, "The Infant will accompany her. There will not be the smallest impropriety, sir. It would be of material service--the gentleman from London--author of the new piece--actor in the new piece--first appearance on any boards--it would lead to a great bespeak, Mr. Johnson."
The idea was extremely distasteful to Nicholas; but out of kindness to Miss Snevellicci, he reluctantly consented to be one of the canvassing party, and accordingly the next morning, sallied forth with Miss Snevellicci and the Infant Phenomenon.
The Phenomenon was rather a troublesome companion, for first the right sandal came down, and then the left, and these mischances being repaired, one leg of the little white trousers was discovered to be longer than the other; then the little green parasol with a broad fringe border and no handle, which she bore in her hand, was dropped down an iron grating, and only fished up again by dint of much exertion. However, it was impossible to scold her, as she was the manager's daughter, so Nicholas took it all in perfect good humor and walked on, with Miss Snevellicci, arm in arm, on one side, and the offending infant on the other.