“Do you suppose you could get it if you seen it again?” I says.

“I wouldn’t set through it,” he says. “It’s no good.”

Well, sir, I thought at the time that that little speech meant a savin’ of eight dollars, because if he didn’t go along, us three could set amongst the riff and raff. I dropped the subject right there and was goin’ to tell the girls about it when he’d went home. But the Missus crabbed it a few minutes after her and Bess come in the room.

“Did you get your invitation?” says she to Bishop.

“What invitation?” he says.

“My husban’ was goin’ to ask you to go with us Tuesday night,” she says. “Grand op’ra.”

“Bishop won’t go,” I says. “He’s already saw the play and says it ain’t no good and he wouldn’t feel like settin’ through it again.”

“Why, Mr. Bishop! That’s a terrible disappointment,” says the Missus.

“We was countin’ on you,” says Bessie, chokin’ up.

“It’s tough luck,” I says, “but you can’t expect things to break right all the w’ile.”

“Wouldn’t you change your mind?” says the Missus.

“That’s up to your husban’,” says Bishop. “I didn’t understand that I was invited. I should certainly hate to break up a party, and if I’d knew I was goin’ to be ast I would of spoke different about the op’ra. It’s prob’ly a whole lot better than when I seen it. And, besides, I surely would enjoy your company.”

“You can enjoy ourn most any night for nothin’,” I says. “But if you don’t enjoy the one down to the Auditorium, they’s no use o’ me payin’