“Perfectly splendid!” said Helen, catching the idea at once.
“I don’t know,” answered Rosanna. “They will have seen the performance and suppose everybody will feel as though it is worth only a nickel?”
“Oh, they won’t feel like that at all, Rosanna,” said Helen. “I think every single person will think it is worth a quarter. Think if they would all pay twenty-five cents!”
“I know several who expect to pay a dollar,” said Uncle Robert.
“If they only will,” cried Rosanna, almost sobbing, “Gwenny can go to Cincinnati this very winter! I think it is a good idea, Uncle Robert. After all, it is a good thing that you did consult with Miss Hooker, even if it has taken a lot of your time. I think you have been so kind.”
“Oh, I haven’t minded,” said Uncle Robert in a generous way.
“Why, you must have minded,” went on Rosanna. “I have kept track all I could, because I was so much obliged to you, and you have been over there at Miss Hooker’s house consulting—well, you had to go over five nights last week, and Miss Hooker is always saying, ‘I had a telephone today from your uncle.’ You must be tired to death. I nearly told Miss Hooker so, but I thought it might sound rude.”
“You are right about that, Rosanna; it would have been very rude indeed, excessively rude I may say,” said Mr. Horton with some haste. “I can scarcely think of anything worse for you to say. My sainted Maria!”
“I didn’t say it,” Rosanna assured him, “and the thing is so nearly over now, only a week more, that it really doesn’t matter.”
“Not a particle!” said Mr. Horton. “But I wish you would promise me that you won’t say anything of the sort. Not that it matters, but I seem to feel nervous.”