The Imp's Matinée
for just one k—one person. I'll give you your money back and you can go—Oh, go to the circus!"
This was the last straw. The Imp cast himself on the dirty floor, to the great detriment of his blouse, and wept openly.
"But I can't!" he wailed. "I can't go to the circus! I promised I'd be sat-satisfied to c-come here to the th-theatre! And now there isn't any theatre! And I can't break my p-p-promise! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
The man came out of the office and patted the Imp kindly on the shoulder.
"Come, take a brace now!" he said. "Get up and never mind. It's hard luck, I know, but you see they can't play for one boy—they simply can't. They'd like to play well enough—that's what they're here for, you see, but it wouldn't be worth while to go to all that fuss for one seat. I—I'm sorry for you, by Jove I am! The only man who sticks by the legitimate!" And he laughed. The Imp didn't understand, but he knew the man meant well, and he didn't mind being laughed at in that spirit. He sat up and brushed his polo-cap. "I wish I was twins," he said thoughtfully,
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