"I don't 'spect it's much when you git inside," said Billy, trying
the effects of negative consolation.

"Yes, 't is, Billy Wiggs," answered his mother, impressively. "You
ain't never been inside a theayter, an' I have. I was there twict,
an' it was grand! You orter see the lights an' fixin's, an' all the
fine ladies an' their beaus. First time I went they was a man in
skin-tights a-walkin' on a rope h'isted 'way up over ever'body's
head."

"What's skin-tights?" asked Billy, thrilled in spite of himself.

"It's spangles 'round yer waist, an' shoes without no heels to 'em.
You see, the man couldn't wear many clothes, 'cause it would make
him too heavy to stay up there in the air. The band plays all the
time, an' folks sing an' speechify, an' ever'body laughs an' has a
good time. It's jes' grand, I tell you!"

Billy's brows were puckered, and he sat unusually quiet for a while,
looking at his mother. Finally he said: "You might take my
snow-money from las' week."

Mrs. Wiggs was indignant. "Why, Billy Wiggs!" she exclaimed, "do you
think I'd take an' go to a show, when Asia an' Australia ain't got
a good shoe to their backs?"

Billy said no more about the theater, but that afternoon, when he
was out with the kindling, he pondered the matter deeply. It was
quite cold, and sometimes he had to put the reins between his knees