ce. But even a more carping critic than her escort could have
found no fault with her this evening; from the crown of her ruddy head
to the soles of her satin slippered feet, she was joy to the eye.

The theater lobby was full when they arrived, of a good-natured crowd
that laughed and chatted and greeted its acquaintances gayly as it
moved slowly toward the inside entrance; where the women whose bare
necks gleamed white in their settings of silks and velvets and furs,
with their dress-suited men folks, were separated, like the sheep from
the goats, for the downstairs of the theater, from the more plainly
attired who climbed balconyward. Mr. Bennet and his lady belonged
unmistakably with the sheep.

It would be a good house, judging from this number waiting to get
inside. It was the first night of a much heralded show, "with the
original New York company," its advance notices had said; and it had
called forth what the morning newspapers of Lewisburg delighted to call
a "representative audience."

Arethusa recognized, among the many, one or two faces she had seen to
know at the dinner-dance, and so she could nod and smile a greeting or
so, as she and Mr. Bennet pushed forward, with the rest of that crowd.
But the people around her pressed against her so closely, that all
unknown to Mr. Bennet, she timidly grasped the skirt of his overcoat
and gripped it tightly for an anchor should they be forced apart. It
was a fearful thought. What on earth _would_ she do, if she lost
him in that swarm of folks?

But once in the more open space inside, she breathed more easily, and
could lose her hold, for separation was no longer to be really feared.

She looked about her then, as Mr. Bennet divested himself of that
anchoring overcoat, and they waited for an usher, and, Arethusa-like,
was deeply impressed with all that her eyes rested upon; the glittering
crystal chandeliers that gleamed like hundreds of diamonds high above
her, the distorted pair of cupids, unnaturally fat, who swayed from
garlands of stiff flowers over the proscenium arch, the badly
anatomized ladies on the ceiling, riding impossible blue clouds; the
gorgeousness of many gilded columns, and even the bright red plush of
the seats. Arethusa's tastes were ever slightly rococo.

They were barely seated when the curtain rose, to a fanfare of sound
more deafening than musical, and she gave a long drawn out and
delighted, "O ... _Oh_!" for a really pleasing riot of c