“I see,” said Bobbie.
“What we want is to see the realities of life placed upon the stage,” went on the thoughtful youth, “not a transparent imitation. We require the stage to give up its great services to the threshing out of some of the world’s trying problems, and to—”
“Best piece I ever see was at the Britannia, ’Oxton,” interrupted Bobbie, “when I was a kid. There was a man in it and a woman, and you must understand—”
“Got change for half a sovereign?” interrupted the thoughtful youth. “Small silver will do.”
“This is all I ’ave,” said Bobbie, showing the coins which were left to him, “besides the bob I’ve got in me hand.”
“Ah,” said the youth regretfully. “That’s no use to me. Put it back in your breast pocket—so. Allow me. If you place your handkerchief over it in this way, you’ll find yourself quite safe from thieves.”
“I s’pose there are some about still.”
“Town’s full of ’em,” said the other regretfully.
The narrow crowd made a movement, and the pairs closed up. A facetious man in the very front rapped twice at the doors, affecting to be the post.
“What’s to-night?” asked the youth suddenly. Bobbie gave the information. “Heavens!” exclaimed the youth, with great concern. “Here am I wasting my time hanging about when I’ve got an engagement with a lady of title at a reunion.”