said his uncle. "But here we are."

Just then the taxicab stopped in front of a handsome building with a
large glass door, which was opened for Rollo and his Uncle George by
an old gentleman with white hair, whom Rollo thanked politely as he
entered.

"Will you excuse me for a moment," said Uncle George. "I have to go
upstairs to discuss a business matter with a friend of mine. He has
some stock he wishes to dispose of, and I often take a little of it
off his hands just before dinner."

"Quite so," said Rollo. "I will await your convenience."

During his uncle's absence Rollo strolled into a handsome room the
walls of which were covered with books. In large chairs sat a number
of gentlemen with books in their laps, as if they were reading, but
Rollo was surprised to see that they were all fast asleep.

"What a beautiful room," thought Rollo. "I understand now why I yawn
so over my lessons. All books must make people sleepy."

One old gentleman was snoring loudly, so Rollo took a large card
marked "Silence" and placed it on his stomach, after which he went
into another room to meet his uncle, who returned at that moment,
looking brighter and more good-natured than ever. He brought with him
the gentleman with whom he had been doing business.

"Rollo," he said, "this is my friend, Mr. Ross, who is going to dine
and go to the theatre with us. He is a member of the old Shaker
Colony."

"Is it so?" said Rollo. "There are a number of Shakers living near my
home in the country. One of them has made several comforters for my
mother."

"Yes," said Mr. Ross. "And I have made a number of comforters for your
uncle, have I not, George?"

"Indeed you have," said Rollo's uncle, and together they walked
upstairs to a splendid room, where they all dined together very
merrily. Rollo stood for a moment beside his chair expecting that his
Uncle George would ask a blessing, but Uncle George evidently forgot
to do so and bade Rollo sit down and fall to, which he did.

"Have you been to the theatre, often, Rollo?" asked Mr. Ross, while
they were eating dinner.

"No, not exactly," replied Rollo. "My mother took me to Boston two
years ago, and I saw a very wonderful panorama of the battle of
Gettysburg. But that is not exactly the theatre, is it?"

"Not exactly," said Mr. Ross, "though I am sure some of the plays in
New York are much worse than any battle."

"What play are we to see, Uncle George?" asked Rollo. "Is it to be
S