they minded their own business, and, although their good spirits were evident, their manners were very different from those of a travelling minstrel show that he had once seen at this same hotel. The head waiter bowed them out of the room with a graciousness that was different from his usual condescension. Hart had secretly admired their well-fitting clothes, and, noticing that they did not have their napkins tucked around their necks, he had pulled his down into his lap.
When he went out into the rotunda of the hotel, he found himself at the cigar counter at the same moment with a young man of almost his own age who said, "After you," politely, as both reached forward toward the match safe. Hart was not bashful, and the remark had broken the ice. He struck a match and held it for the other to light his cigar. "Where can I get a ticket for your show to-night?" he inquired.
"At the Opera House," was the answer.
"Oh, I didn't know," said Hart, " but what you sent out invitations, or something."
"No," said the other, "we are just like any other show, and have to run the same chances."
