"I was afraid it might give one a chill," I said, "but it is very
picturesque. I suppose the ancient Romans brought cushions."
Mr. Dod did not appear to hear me.
"In the third row below," he exclaimed, blushing joyfully, "the sixth
from this end--do you see? Yellow bun under a floral hat--Isabel!"
"A yellow bun under a floral hat," I repeated, "that would be Isabel, if
you add a good complexion and a look of deportment. Yes, now I see her.
Mrs. Portheris on one side, Mr. Mafferton on the other. What do you want
to do?"
"Assassinate Mafferton," said Dicky. "Does it look to you as if he had
been getting there at all."
"So far as one can see from behind, I should say he has made some
progress, but I don't think, Dicky, that he has arrived. He is
constitutionally slow," I added, "about arriving."
At that moment the party rose. Without a word we, too, got on our feet
and automatically followed, Dicky treading the reserved seats of the
court of Berengarius as if they had been the back rows of a Bowery
theatre. The classics were wholly obscured for him by a floral hat and a
yellow bun.
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