rl, evidently her
grandchildren, in two seats directly in front of her.

"Why don't they sit next to her?" Sunny Boy whispered, watching the
lady standing up to smooth out the little girl's hair-ribbon.

"They probably couldn't get three seats together," explained Mrs.
Horton. "Better let me hold your hat, precious; you might drop it and
some one would walk on it."

The orchestra was playing a gay bit of music, and Sunny's feet kept
time to it merrily. He had been to the theater once or twice at home,
generally at Christmas time, but this was decidedly different.

"I like New York," he confided to Mother.

The grandmotherly lady smiled.

"So you don't live here?" she asked pleasantly. "I have lived here so
many years that no other place would seem like home. But Louise and
David, my grandchildren, are, like you, visitors. They come from
Georgia."

Mrs. Horton leaned forward.

"We're from Centronia," she volunteered, for Sunny Boy was too shy to
do more than smile at the two children who had turned around when they
heard their names spoken, and now grinned at him politely over the
backs of their seats. "I don't believe Sunny Boy knows where Georgia
is--do you, dear?"

"It's down South," said the little girl. "We slept on the train. And
David was sick. I wasn't. Grandmother said he prob'ly ate too much
ice-cream for his supper."

"Sh!" cautioned their grandmother. "The curtain's going up in a
minute."

The lights went out, the music stopped, and Sunny Boy snuggled close
to Mother. Slowly, oh, very slowly, the big blue curtain began to roll
up, and the play began.

"Such a mean old stepmother," scolded Sunny Boy, at the end of the
first act. "Poor little Snow White! I hope they never find out where
she went when she ran away."

The orchestra played again, and then stopped as the lights were turned
off for the second act. Sunny Boy gave a nervous little squeak as the
curtain rose and he saw the dwarfs in their house.

CHAPTER IX

WHEN MAKE-BELIEVE IS REAL

The dwarfs trotted gaily about the stage and finally went off to their
work of chopping wood in the forest, leaving Snow White singing
happily and brushing up the hearth.

"Isn't she pretty?" whispered Sunny Boy to Mother, who nodded and
handed him the opera glasses.

Sunny Boy couldn't make the glasses work very well, but he loved to
try, and he never felt that he was really at the theater unless he
spent some minutes trying to look thro