The beggar’s purse appeared to accept this view complaisantly. Back to the ticket window stepped E. Van Tenner.
“What is the best seat you have for tonight?” he asked the duke of the diagram. “Tenth row in the balcony; one sixty-five.”
“Can you see the stage from it?”
“Oh, yes,” replied the duke wearily. “You can see the stage.” His tone, aimed at the inquirer’s vanity, commented: “If you’re the kind of cheap person who goes into the balcony.” But E. Van Tenner’s vanity was now armored like the tropic ant-eater.
“I’ll take it,” he said; and the beggars purse opened automatically.
Rather to his surprise he found that his view of the play was just as unobstructed as in the orchestra seats to which he had been accustomed; and his hearing was much less interrupted—not to mention the fact that he had saved one dollar and sixty-five cents at one fell swoop. Thus he felt justified at the close of the performance in stopping for a bite of supper. A flaring light directed him to a place where, all too late, the frantic dissonances of a jazz band burst upon his shocked ears. Before he could retreat a coat-room attendant had his garments in pawn. Perforce he must go forward. As he dropped into a gilded and fragile chair a pair of ample ladies, wearing carefully greased evening gowns, appeared upon the stage and burst into metallic shrieks, supported by the musical spasm of the orchestra. E. Van Tenner essayed to forget his sufferings in contemplation of the menu—and got a fresh shock. He had seen prices before, but never such prices as these. Even without the magic purse he was sure that they would have given him pause. As for the purse, he did not dare bring it out in sight of that array of figures. Something light, a bit of fish and some stuffed green peppers, he had thought to order. The fish were evidently goldfish; solid gold at that. As for the peppers, his eyes encountered this legend:
Green peppers (1) stuffed with rice and tomato—80 cents.
At first he thought it a misprint; it must be thirty cents; or possibly fifty. Consideration of the other vegetables dispelled that hope. They were on an equal scale. But—eighty cents for one green pepper! Was there, then, a fatal shortage in the green-pepper market? Or a crop failure in the rice or tomatoes whereof the stuffing was compounded?
“Cut it short!
Be a sport!
Buy a quart!”
shrieked the songsters, coyly adjusting their shoulder straps.