expense, but Phronsie sat erect winking hard, her royal hands folded
quite still in her lap.

"You're bound for a newspaper office, my boy," said Jasper at length.
"How you will cut into the coming poet, and maul the fledgling of the
prose writer! Well, I stand corrected.

"'The drama pure and simple,
Is forgot, in straining at the moral.'
"Is that any better?" (To the audience.)

"Yes, I think it is," said Polly, "but I do believe it's time to talk
more elegantly, Jasper. It is due to the people in the private boxes,
you know."

"Oh! the boxes are to have things all right before the play is over;
never you fear, Polly," said Jasper.

"'A poor presentment,
You will say we give;
But cry you mercy, Sirs, and'"?

"I don't like 'cry you mercy,'" announced Ben slowly, "because it
doesn't seem to mean anything."

"Oh! don't cut that out," exclaimed Polly, clasping her hands and
rushing up to Ben. "That's my pet phrase; you mustn't touch that,
Bensie."

"But it doesn't mean anything," reiterated Ben in a puzzled way.