"I beg your pardon," Philip at length blundered out, "this is Mr. Brierly

of whom I have written you."

And Ruth welcomed Harry with a friendliness that Philip thought was due

to his friend, to be sure, but which seemed to him too level with her

reception of himself, but which Harry received as his due from the other

sex.

Questions were asked about the journey and about the West, and the

conversation became a general one, until Philip at length found himself

talking with the Squire in relation to land and railroads and things he

couldn't keep his mind on especially as he heard Ruth and Harry in an

animated discourse, and caught the words "New York," and "opera," and

"reception," and knew that Harry was giving his imagination full range in

the world of fashion.

Harry knew all about the opera, green room and all (at least he said so)

and knew a good many of the operas and could make very entertaining

stories of their plots, telling how the soprano came in here, and the

basso here, humming the beginning of their airs--tum-ti-tum-ti-ti

-suggesting the profound dissatisfaction of the basso recitative--down

-among--the--dead--men--and touching off the whole with an airy grace

quite captivating; though he couldn't have sung a single air through to

save himself, and he hadn't an ear to know whether it was sung correctly.

All the same he doted on the opera, and kept a box there, into which he

lounged occasionally to hear a favorite scene and meet his society

235

The Gilded Age