“We’ll be late if you do!” she said warningly. “It’s half past one.” “Wait a minute, Lucy. You hurry me so I hardly know what I’m eating,” Nannie protested. Only the highest priced seats were left when they reached the theatre, and, by the time they were in their places, the curtain had risen and the first act was in progress. “If I’d known we were going to be late I wouldn’t have come,” grumbled Nannie. “I hate to come in after a piece is started. It’s so hard to get the threads of the plot.” During the progress of the play Mrs. Merwent insisted on whispering personal remarks regarding the actors and actresses, until Lucy could no longer endure it with equanimity. “Please, Mamma, do wait till after the act is over!” she requested irritably. “I never saw any one in my life who was so hard to get along with as you,” murmured Nannie in a savage undertone. After this she preserved an injured silence, not speaking again until they had reached home. Here Lucy changed into her house dress and apron and began dinner, and Nannie went to her room. At the end of an hour Mrs. Merwent appeared in a pretty light green demi-toilette. On Dimmie’s return from the Hamiltons’ Lucy had changed his clothes and he too was spotless. As John’s step was heard, Nannie ran to the door. Dimmie followed rather timidly. When John entered the dining room it was with one hand on Nannie’s arm, while Dimmie clung to his other hand. “How’s everybody?” John asked. “You look like a débutante, Nannie.” “Everybody’s well,” she replied. “We’ve been to a matinée.” “I didn’t go,” volunteered Dimmie. “I stayed with Mrs. Hamilton.” At this juncture Lucy came in with a dish from the kitchen. “_You_ look like you’d been to a funeral,” said John, regarding her. “What’s the matter?” “I have a slight headache, but it’s nothing. Let’s have dinner.” When they were seated at the table she began to talk with determined agreeableness. “We went to see Nazimova as Hedda Gabler. She’s wonderful.” “And that dress she wore in the last act!” interrupted Nannie. “Did you get a good look at it, Lucy? It was black silk with tiny pink rosebuds.” “But didn’t you think her portrayal of Hedda was splendid?” persisted Lucy. “I didn’t like the piece,” returned Mrs. Merwent. “I don’t enjoy sad things.” “She certainly has a marvellous temperament. Don’t you think so, John?” pursued Lucy. “Yes. I admired her as Nora very much.” “She’s a brunette,” observed Nannie. “Now what are you laughing at, Lucy? You ridicule everything I say! I’m sure I don’t see anything funny in what I said. And John is laughing too!” “We weren’t ridiculing you, Mamma,” said Lucy. “No! I think it was cute!” supplemented John warmly. “I like naïveté. People are generally so sophisticated.” “Well, _you_ like me a little, anyway. Don’t you, John?” “I should say I did, Nannie!” “So do I,” added Lucy. “Thank you, John,” said Nannie, smiling again. * * * * *