Fisher applauded this as a very spirited speech; and, by insinuations that Dr. Middleton “always gave the premium to De Grey,” and that “those who had lost their bets might thank themselves for it, for being such simpletons as to bet against the favourite,” he raised a murmur highly flattering to Archer, amongst some of the most credulous boys; whilst others loudly proclaimed their belief in Dr. Middleton’s impartiality. These warmly congratulated De Grey. At this Archer grew more and more angry, and when Fisher was proceeding to speak nonsense _for_ him, pushed forward into the circle to De Grey, crying, “I wish, Mr. Fisher, you would let me fight my own battles!” “And _I_ wish,” said young Townsend, who was fonder of diversions than of premiums, or battles, or of anything else—“_I_ wish, that we were not to have any battles; after having worked like horses, don’t set about to fight like dogs. Come,” said he, tapping De Grey’s shoulder, “let us see your new playhouse, do—it’s a holiday, and let us make the most of it. Let us have the ‘School for Scandal,’ do; and I’ll play Charles for you, and you, De Grey, shall be _my little Premium_. Come, do open this new playhouse of yours to-night.” “Come then!” said De Grey, and he ran across the playground to a waste building at the farthest end of it, in which, at the earnest request of the whole community, and with the permission of Dr. Middleton, he had with much pain and ingenuity erected a theatre. “The new theatre is going to be opened! Follow the manager! Follow the manager!” echoed a multitude of voices. “_Follow the manager_!” echoed very disagreeably in Archer’s ear; but as he could not be _left alone_, he was also obliged to follow the manager. The moment that the door was unlocked, the crowd rushed in: the delight and wonder expressed at the sight was great, and the applause and thanks which were bestowed upon the manager were long and loud. Archer at least thought them long, for he was impatient till his voice could be heard. When at length the acclamations had spent themselves, he walked across the stage with a knowing air, and looking round contemptuously. “And is _this_ your famous playhouse?” cried he. “I wish you had, any of you, seen the playhouse _I_ have been used to?” These words made a great and visible change in the feelings and opinions of the public. “Who would be a servant of the public? or who would toil for popular applause?” A few words spoken in a decisive tone by a new voice operated as a charm, and the playhouse was in an instant metamorphosed in the eyes of the spectators. All gratitude for the past was forgotten, and the expectation of something better justified to the capricious multitude their disdain of what they had so lately pronounced to be excellent.