"Wa'al, I says to her," he proceeded, untouched by her scorn, "'How'd you like to go t' the theater? You hain't never ben,' I says, 'an' now you're down here you may jes' as well see somethin' while you got a chanst,' I says. Up to that _time_," he remarked, as it were in passing, "she'd ben somewhat pre_juced_ 'ginst theaters, an'----" "Wa'al," Mrs. Bixbee broke in, "I guess what we see that night was cal'lated----" "You hold on," he interposed. "I'm tellin' this story. You had a chanst to an' wouldn't. Anyway," he resumed, "she allowed she'd try it once, an' we agreed we'd go somewheres that night. But somethin' happened to put it out o' my mind, an' I didn't think on't agin till I got back to the hotel fer supper. So I went to the feller at the news-stand an' says, 'Got any show-tickits fer to-night?' "'Theater?' he says. "'I reckon so,' I says. "'Wa'al,' he says, 'I hain't got nothin' now but two seats fer "Clyanthy."' "'Is it a good show?' I says--'moral, an' so on? I'm goin' to take my sister, an' she's a little pertic'ler about some things,' I says. He kind o' grinned, the feller did. 'I've took my wife twice, an' she's putty pertic'ler herself,' he says, laughin'." "She must 'a' ben," remarked Mrs. Bixbee with a sniff that spoke volumes of her opinion of "the feller's wife." David emitted a chuckle. "Wa'al," he continued, "I took the tickits on the feller's recommend, an' the fact of his wife's bein' so pertic'ler, an' after supper we went. It was a mighty handsome place inside, gilded an' carved all over like the outside of a cirkis wagin, an' when we went in the orchestry was playin' an' the people was comin' in, an' after we'd set a few minutes I says to Polly, 'What do you think on't?' I says. "'I don't see anythin' very unbecomin' so fur, an' the people looks respectable enough,' she says. "'No jail birds in sight fur 's ye c'n see so fur, be they?' I says. He, he, he, he!" "You needn't make me out more of a gump 'n I was," protested Mrs. Bixbee. "An' you was jest as----" David held up his finger at her. "Don't you sp'ile the story by discountin' the sequil. Wa'al, putty soon the band struck up some kind of a dancin' tune, an' the curt'in went up, an' a girl come prancin' down to the footlights an' begun singin' an' dancin', an', scat my----! to all human appearances you c'd 'a' covered ev'ry dum thing she had on with a postage stamp." John stole a glance at Mrs. Cullom. She was staring at the speaker with wide-open eyes of horror and amazement. "I guess I wouldn't go very _fur_ into pertic'lers," said Mrs. Bixbee in a warning tone.