"Well," said I, "I hope you'll enjoy it. I did not enjoy the last one I attended; but it was not my own fault, nor that of the performers."
"Whose fault was it?" asked Susie.
"Just behind me," I replied, "sat two well-dressed, fine-looking young people. What do you think they did through all the sweet music—solos, arias, quartettes, and choruses? Why, they simply talked and laughed. Sometimes they whispered, sometimes they giggled, sometimes they conversed audibly. People around them were terribly annoyed; but they did not seem to care how much they disturbed their neighbors.
"I have been told, Susie dear," I went on to say, "that among the Japanese it is part of a young lady's education to be taught to chatter, that is, to talk of little things gracefully. These American young people chatter without having been taught the art. The trouble was, they did not know when to keep still."
"I hope, Aunt Marjorie," said Susie, "that you do not think that I would act as those ill-bred creatures did."
"I am sure you would not, my dear," I replied. "But it grieves me that so many boys and girls, from mere want of thought, whisper and laugh in public places, where their doing so is a trespass on the rights of others, and a great annoyance to speakers and performers."