When we came to her lodgings we found all the Branghtons in the passage, impatiently waiting for us with the door open.
“Only see, here’s Miss!” cried the brother.
“Well, I declare I thought as much!” said the younger sister.
“Why, Miss,” said Mr. Branghton, “I think you might as well have come with your cousins at once; it’s throwing money in the dirt, to pay two coaches for one fare.”
“Lord, father,” cried the son, “make no words about that; for I’ll pay for the coach that Miss had.”
“O, I know very well,” answered Mr. Branghton, “that you’re always more ready to spend than to earn.”
I then interfered, and begged that I might myself be allowed to pay the fare, as the expense was incurred upon my account; they all said no, and proposed that the same coach should carry us to the opera.
While this passed the Miss Branghtons were examining my dress, which, indeed, was very improper for my company; and, as I was extremely unwilling to be so conspicuous amongst them, I requested Madame Duval to borrow a hat or bonnet for me of the people of the house. But she never wears either herself, and thinks them very English and barbarous; therefore she insisted that I should go full dressed, as I had prepared myself for the pit, though I made many objections.
We were then all crowded into the same carriage; but when we arrived at the opera-house, I contrived to pay the coachman. They made a great many speeches; but Mr. Branghton’s reflection had determined me not to be indebted to him.
If I had not been too much chagrined to laugh, I should have been extremely diverted at their ignorance of whatever belongs to an opera. In the first place they could not tell at what door we ought to enter, and we wandered about for some time, without knowing which way to turn: they did not choose to apply to me, though I was the only person of the party who had ever before been at an opera; because they were unwilling to suppose that their country counsin, as they were pleased to call me, should be better acquainted with any London public place than themselves. I was very indifferent and careless upon this subject; but not a little uneasy at finding that my dress, so different from that of the company to which I belonged, attracted general notice and observation.
In a short time, however, we arrived at one of the door-keeper’s bars. Mr. Branghton demanded for what part of the house they took money? They answered, the pit; and regarded us all with great earnestness. The son then advancing, said “Sir, if you please, I beg that I may treat Miss.”
“We’ll settle that another time,” answered Mr. Branghton, and put down a guinea.
Two tickets of admission were given to him.
Mr. Branghton, in his turn, now stared at the door-keeper, and demanded what he meant by giving him only two tickets for a guinea.
“Only two, Sir!” said the man; “why, don’t you know that the tickets are half-a guinea each?”
“Half-a-guinea each!” repeated Mr. Branghton, “why, I never heard of such a thing in my life! And pray, Sir, how many will they admit?”
“Just as usual, Sir, one person each.”
“But one person for half-a-guinea!-why, I only want to sit in the pit, friend.”
“Had not the ladies better sit in the gallery, Sir; for they’ll hardly choose to go into the pit with their hats on?”
“O, as to that,” cried Miss Branghton, “if our hats are too high we’ll take them off when we get in. I sha’n’t mind, it, for I did my hair on purpose.”
Another party then approaching, the door-keeper could no longer attend to Mr. Branghton; who, taking up the guinea, told him it should be long enough before he’d see it again, and walked away.
The young ladies, in some confusion, expressed their surprise that their papa should not know the opera prices, which, for their parts, they had read in the papers a thousand times.
“The price of stocks,” said he, “is enough for me to see after; and I took it for granted it was the same thing here as at the playhouse.”
“I knew well enough what the price was,” said the son; “but I would not speak, because I thought perhaps they’d take less, as we’re such a large party.”
The sisters both laughed very contemptuously at this idea, and asked him if he ever heard of people’s abating any thing at a public place? I don’t know whether I have or not,” answered he; “but I am sure if they would, you’d like it so much the worse.”
“Very true, Tom,” cried Mr. Branghton; “tell a woman that any thing is reasonable, and she’ll be sure to hate it.”
“Well,” said Miss Polly, “I hope that aunt and Miss will be of our side, for papa always takes part with Tom.”
“Come, come,” cried Madame Duval, “if you stand talking here, we shan’t get no place at all.”
Mr. Branghton then enquired the way to the gallery; and, when we came to the door-keeper, demanded what was to pay.
“The usual price, Sir,” said the man.
“Then give me change,” cried Mr. Branghton, again putting down his guinea.
“For how many, Sir?”
“Why-let’s see,-for six.”
“For six, Sir? why, you’re given me but a guinea.”
“But a guinea! why, how much would you have? I suppose it is’n’t half-a-guinea a piece here too?”
“No, Sir, only five shillings.”
Mr. Branghton again took up his unfortunate guinea, and protested he would not submit to no such imposition. I then proposed that we should return home, but Madame Duval would not consent; and we were conducted, by a woman who sells books of the opera, to another gallery-door, where, after some disputing, Mr. Branghton at last paid, and we all went up stairs.
Madame Duval complained very much of the trouble of going so high: but Mr. Branghton desired her not to hold the place too cheap; “for, whatever you think,” cried he, “I assure you I paid pit price; so don’t suppose I come here to save my money.”
“Well, to be sure,” said Miss Branghton, “there’s no judging of a place by the outside, else, I must needs say, there’s nothing very extraordinary in the stair-case.”
But, when we entered the gallery their amazement and disappointment became general. For a few instants, they looked at one another without speaking, and then they all broke silence at once.
“Lord, papa,” exclaimed Miss Polly, “why, you have brought us to the one-shilling gallery!”
“I’ll be glad to give you two shillings, though,” answered he, “to pay. I was never so fooled out of my money before, since the house of my birth. Either the door-keeper’s a knave, or this is the greatest imposition that ever was put upon the public.”
“Ma foi,” cried Madame Duval, “I never sat in such a mean place in all my life;—why, it’s as high-we shan’t see nothing.”
“I thought at the time,” said Mr. Branghton, “that three shillings was an exorbitant price for a place in the gallery: but as we’d been asked so much at the other doors, why I paid it without many words; but, then, to be sure, thinks I, it can never be like any other gallery, we shall see some crinkum-crankum or other for our money; but I find it’s as arrant