"Yes, thank you," and the beautiful face looked happily content
as Eunice Embury nestled her chin deeper into her fur collar.

For, though late April, the day was crisply cool and there was a
tang in the bright sunshiny air. Aunt Abby was almost as warmly
wrapped up as in midwinter, and when, on reaching Newark, they
encountered a raw East wind, she shrugged into her coat like a
shivering Esquimau.

"Where do we go to see it?" asked Eunice, as later, after
luncheon, she eagerly looked about at the crowds massed
everywhere.

"We'll have to reconnoiter," Hendricks replied, smiling at her
animated face. "Drive on to the Oberon, Gus."

As they neared the theatre the surging waves of humanity barred
their progress, and the big car was forced to come to a
standstill.

"I'll get out," said Hendricks, "and make a few inquiries. The
Free Press office is near here, and I know some of the people
there."

He strode off and was soon swallowed up in the crowd.

"I think I see a good opening," said Gus, after a moment. "I'll
get out for a minute, Mrs, Embury. I must inquire where cars can
be parked."