country village where there are no theatres the people make dramas
out of each other's lives; the most trivial incidents are magnified and
talked about--dramatized, in short."

"You mean gossiped about?"

"Well, you may call it gossip--nothing can be concealed; everybody knows
about everybody else; there is no privacy; everything is used to create
that illusory spectacle which the stage tries to give. I think that in
the country village a good theatre would be a wholesome influence,
satisfy a natural appetite indicated by the inquisition into the affairs
of neighbors, and by the petty scandal."

"We are on the way to it," said Mr. Morgan, who sat behind them; "we have
theatricals in the church parlors, which may grow into a nineteenth
century substitute for the miracle-plays. You mustn't, Margaret, let Mr.
Henderson prejudice you against the country."

"No," said the latter, quickly; "I was only trying to defend the city. We
country people always do that. We must base our theatrical life on
something in nature."

"What is the difference, Mr. Henderson," asked Margaret, "between the
gossip in the boxes and the country gossip you spoke of?"

"In toleration mainly, and lack of exact knowledge. It is here rather
cynical persiflage, not concentrated public opinion."

"I don't follow you," said Morgan. "It seems to me that in the city
you've got gossip plus the stage."

"That is to say, we have the world."

"I don't like to believe that," said Margaret, seriously--"your
definition of the world."

"You make me see that it was a poor jest," he said, rising to go.
"By-the-way, we have a friend of yours in our box tonight--a young
Englishman."

"Oh, Mr. Lyon. We were all delighted with him. Such a transparent,
genuine nature!"

"Tell him," said my wife, "that we should be happy to see him at our
hotel."

When Henderson came back to his box Carmen did not look up, but she said,
indifferently: "What, so soon? But your absence has made one person
thoroughly miserable. Mr. Lyon has not taken his eyes off you. I never
saw such an international attachment."

"What more could I do for Miss Eschelle than to leave her in such
company?"

"I beg your pardon," said Lyon. "Miss Eschelle must believe that I
thoroughly appreciate Mr. Henderson's self-sacrifice. If I occasionally
looked over where he was, I assure you it was in pity."

"You are both altogether too self-sacrificing," the beauty replied,
turning to Henderson