"It's a beautiful piece. The play, I mean," he explained; being
fearful lest I should consider him as over-eager for the coveted and
covenanted reward. "I'm sure o' that. The horther says so, and DILEY
says so, and Miss O'GRADY says so; she's got the 'eroine to play,--and
oh, don't she die in the lawst Act just proper, with pink light and
a couple o' angels to carry 'er up! Then there's Mr. KEANE 'ARRIS, 'e
touches 'em all up with 'is sword, 'places his back to the wall, and
defies the mob,' is what the book says. So you may take it from me,
it's fust-rate."
I thanked my intelligent little friend for his information, and was
proceeding to put a further question about the music for this new
Drama, which, as everyone will soon know, is to be a real _chef
d'oeuvre_ of Sir HAUTHOR SUNNIVUN, when a step was heard approaching
across the stage--the deepest, by the way, in London--to where we were
talking.
"That's 'im," said the boy, trembling. "'E's a noble-'earted master,
so kind and generous, but 'e 'ates deception, and it would be more
than my place is worth to let 'im catch me talking these 'ere dead
secrets to you.
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