"What tickets?" She did not ask who was the purchaser; she, too, had eyes.
"Tickets for the theatre—a vaudeville show."
Jean's face lit.
"Vaudeville! I've often wondered what it was like."
"You're not telling me you've never seen a vaudeville show?"
"Never. Nothing worth seeing ever came to Shawnee Springs. Ought we to go?"
"Do you mean, is it respectable? Sure! One of the best in the city."
"I don't mean that. Ought we to go in this way? I don't know him."
"Well, I do," rejoined Amy, decisively; "and if there's a nicer fellow between High Bridge and the Battery, I'll miss my guess. Of course, if you want to scare up a headache and back out, why, you can. I'm going, anyway, and I reckon the extra ticket won't go a-begging. The stenographer or the manicure would jump at the chance."
"Would he be offended?"