ng.

Nor had Pen noticed the extraordinary change which had taken place on
the stage a short time after the entry of these two gentlemen into the
theatre. There were so few people in the house, that the first act
of the play languished entirely, and there had been some question of
returning the money, as upon that other unfortunate night when poor Pen
had been driven away. The actors were perfectly careless about their
parts, and yawned through the dialogue, and talked loud to each other
in the intervals. Even Bingley was listless, and Mrs. B. in Elvira spoke
under her breath.

How came it that all of a sudden Mrs. Bingley began to raise her voice
and bellow like a bull of Bashan? Whence was it that Bingley, flinging
off his apathy, darted about the stage and yelled like Dean? Why did
Garbetts and Rowkins and Miss Rouncy try, each of them, the force of
their charms or graces, and act and swagger and scowl and spout their
very loudest at the two gentlemen in box No. 3?

One was a quiet little man in black, with a grey head and a jolly
shrewd face--the other was in all respects a splendid and remarkable
individual. He was a tall and portly gentleman with a hooked nose and a
profusion of curling brown hair and whiskers; his coat was covered with
the richest frogs-braiding and velvet. He had under-waistcoats, many
splendid rings, jewelled pins and neck-chains. When he took out his
yellow pocket-handkerchief with his hand that was cased in white kids,
a delightful odour of musk and bergamot was shaken through the house.
He was evidently a personage of rank, and it was at him that the little
Chatteris company was acting.

He was, in a word, no other than Mr. Dolphin, the great manager from
London, accompanied by his faithful friend and secretary Mr. William
Minns: without whom he never travelled. He had not been ten minutes in
the theatre before his august presence there was perceived by Bingley
and the rest: and they all began to act their best and try to engage his
attention. Even Miss Fotheringay's dull heart, which was disturbed at
nothing, felt perhaps a flutter, when she came in presence of the famous
London Impresario. She had not much to do in her part, but to look
handsome, and stand in picturesque attitudes encircling her child and
she did this work to admiration. In vain the various actors tried to win
the favour of the great stage Sultan. Pizarro never got a hand from him.
Bingley yelled, and Mrs. Bingley bell