“Well,” said Merry, “I hardly think I’ll go into the theatrical business; but we’ll come and see the play to-night, if you get that box for us, Ephraim.” “Oh I’ll git it, yeou bet!” assured the Vermonter. “I’ll git right arter it fust thing this afternoon afore rehearsal.” “Yaw,” assured Hans. “Uf he don’d done dot, I vill got after him.” CHAPTER V. MURDEROUS REALISM. MURDEROUS REALISM. Jack, the lame boy, succeeded in getting Bob to keep shop for him that evening, and so he was able to attend the theater with his sister and Frank. Ephraim Gallup kept his word and secured a box for them. Little Nell was in raptures when they were seated in the box and “Haley’s Mammoth Gold Band” played the overture in the place of an orchestra. The band was made up of an odd collection of human beings, but they had practiced on a few pieces till they could “tear them off” in a style that was pretty sure to please the uneducated ear and catch the fancy of the crowd. Ephraim Gallup sat up proudly and puffed out his cheeks as he blew away at his horn. He was aware that Frank Merriwell must be regarding him with interest, and he was determined to do his best. “Isn’t it lovely!” murmured little Nell, as she sat with one hand clasped in her brother’s. Despite the age of the play, the house was filled with spectators. It was a “popular price” theater, and its patrons were the common people. The gallery was packed with youngsters who were there to sympathize with “Uncle Tom,” applaud “George Harris,” laugh with “Topsy” and “Gumption Cute,” and hiss “Simon Legree.” When the band had finished playing, the gallery broke into a roar, amid which could be distinguished cat calls, screams and shrill whistles. The footlights flashed, and the musicians played a “riser” as the curtain rolled swiftly up. The play was on, and little Nell was enchained, enraptured, enchanted. For the first time in her life she saw a genuine “theater show,” and, within three minutes, everything happening on the stage was true as life for her.
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