“I cannot understand,” he said, “why none of our friends are dressed in costume, and why we are.”
“I rather like it,” said Elizabeth Eliza, “though I should be better pleased if I could form a group with some one.”
The strains of the minuet began. Mrs. Peterkin was anxious to join the performers. It was the dance of her youth.
But she was delayed by one of the managers on the steps that led to the stage.
“I cannot understand this company,” he said, distractedly.
“They cannot find their booth,” said another.
“That is the case,” said Mr. Peterkin, relieved to have it stated.
“Perhaps you had better pass into the corridor,” said a polite marshal.
They did this, and, walking across, found themselves in the refreshment-room.
“This is the booth for us,” said Mr. Peterkin.