Phillip conferred with Chester in regard to the theatre tickets, recognizing in his roommate an authority on the subject. And Chester, after vainly endeavouring to persuade Phillip to see “Louis XI.” instead of “Charles I.,” as being rather more “bloody,” came to his assistance with advice. “What you want to do,” he said, “is to go over to Thurston’s and leave an order in advance. They’ll get you just what you want.” “But won’t that be awfully expensive?” asked Phillip. “Well, maybe it would. I’d forgotten. The only thing to do, then, is to get in line.” “What’s that?” “You go to the theatre the night before the sale and stand in line until the next morning. It’s not bad fun, really. I’ll tell you what! We’ll go in together and take turns waiting!” “But I didn’t know you were going to see him?” “I wasn’t, but I don’t mind seeing ‘Sans Gene’ again. We can have lots of fun getting tickets.” So the following Wednesday evening they went into town at ten o’clock, and after a light supper at Marliave’s, insisted upon by Chester and partaken of at his expense, betook themselves to the theatre. They were by no means the first on the scene. Already fully a dozen persons were leaning against the theatre wall and armed with camp stools, mackintoshes and umbrellas. “We ought to have brought stools,” said Chester. “How silly of me to forget.” “And I reckon we’ll need umbrellas, too,” added Phillip. “It looks a good deal like rain, don’t you think so?” Chester did. “I’ll tell you,” he said. “I’ll go back to the room and get a mackintosh and an umbrella; and maybe I can find a camp stool somewhere.” So back to college he went, while Phillip made himself number fourteen, or it may have been fifteen, in the line. After awhile the performance let out and the lobby was filled with men and women in evening dress, and the little narrow street became a bedlam as the carriages dashed up for their loads. It was quite interesting and Phillip enjoyed it. But about midnight the excitement waned and the novelty began to wear off. To make matters worse, it began to rain, gently, insistently, and the chill got under his overcoat and set him to shivering. Now and then a waiter left the line and tramped about and swung his arms, his claim to his position being respected by the rest. Most of them, Phillip concluded, were speculators, though here and there stood one who was evidently, like himself, present from motives of economy. Phillip wondered what had become of Chester, and longed greatly for the promised umbrella and mackintosh. But at one o’clock Chester was still absent and Phillip gave up hoping for him. By that hour the throng had increased to fully half a hundred. Now and then a policeman strolled by, and once a vendor of sandwiches and coffee appeared and did a rushing business.