Page:The principal girl (IA principalgirl00snai).pdf/42

 Shoals of other kids were converging upon the portals of Drury; kids in taxis, kids in growlers, kids on foot. It was 1:28, and all were frightfully anxious to be in their places by the time the curtain—the real, not the fireproof curtain—went up. Timothy and Alice Clara were inclined to hustle round a bit, but Marge had such implicit faith in Uncle Phil that to her mind hustling was not called for and was therefore unladylike.

In justice to Marge, it is only fair to say that her faith in Uncle Phil was justified. Crowds of arrivals were in the vestibules; kids with their fathers, kids with their mothers, kids with their nannas, kids with their maiden aunts. But straight as a die Uncle Phil cut out a course for his convoy. In double file his party of seven—five kids and two quite nice-looking nannas—followed in the wake of his astrachan collar and whanghee cane with silver mountings. At 1:29 Marge was seated in Box B, next to the stage and on a level with the dress circle. Timothy and Alice Clara and Dick and the Babe were seated beside her—certainly a great triumph for all concerned, including the criminal eating his dinner out of his handkerchief within a stone's throw of the editorial office of the Spectator.

Uncle Phil bought a programme and paid a shilling for it, although sixpence was the price.

"Cinderella, I see. Rippin'."

Marge knew it was Cinderella. She had dreamed