The Imp's Matinée
"Poor little fellow!" she said softly. "Poor, tired little Imp!"
The Tall Young Man in tennis flannels faced the company. "My friends," he said earnestly, "we cannot neglect this appeal. Come to the theatre!"
And before the Imp could find time to be surprised, the people on the piazza burst into laughter and followed the Tall Young Man down the steps.
"They're all coming! All but old Mrs. Sampson and Mr. Reed! Everyone!" he gasped, as they hurried along.
"Of course they're coming, when we invited them," said the Tall Young Man. "Hello! what's this?" Up the road came five, six big carryalls from the hotel across the river, full of summer people. They had horns and whistles and they made a very jolly noise. "Hallo, the Mayflower!" called the Tall Young Man.
"Hallo, the Plymouth!" called back somebody from the wagons. "What's this? Sunday-school picnic?"
"Not much!" said the Tall Young Man. "This is a theatre-party, this is! It's no use going to
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