Basket wrung the Major's hand with genuine
feeling, "you have been a long time putting off this visit; but, now
we have you, I promise we don't let you go in a hurry. We will toast
old days; we will go visit the play together as of old--yes, this
very night. For, as luck will have it, the stock company at the
Theatre Royal makes way to-night--for whom think you? No less a man
than Orlando B. Sturge, and in his great part of Tom Taffrail in
_Love Between Decks; or, The Triumph of Constancy_; a week's special
engagement with his own London company in honour of the Duke of
Clarence, who is paying us a visit just now at Admiralty House."
"Sturge?" echoed the Major, doubtfully.
"Good heavens, my dear fellow, don't tell me you haven't heard of
him! Really, now, really, you bury yourself--believe me, you do.
Why, for nautical parts, the stage hasn't his equal; and a voice,
they tell me, like Incledon's in his prime! Mrs. Basket and I have
reserved seats, and, now I come to think of it, we had best step down
to the theatre before dining, book yours, and arrange it so that we
sit in a row. The house will be crowded, if 'tis only for a view of
his Royal Highness, who will certainly attend if--hem!--equal to the
effort."
"I had not heard of his being indisposed."
"Nor is he, at this hour. But now and then . . . after his fourth
bottle . . . However, as I say, the house will certainly be crowded.
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