"Where are you-all from?" she demanded.
The statement that we came from New York seemed to explain
satisfactorily our ignorance of the I.I. and C. Evidently Mrs.
Eichelberger expected little of New Yorkers. The I.I. and C., she
explained, was the Mississippi Industrial Institute and College,
formerly known as the Female College, a State institution for young
women; and the senior dramatics were even then in progress in the
college chapel, just up the street.
To the chapel, therefore, my companion and I repaired as rapidly as
might be, guided thither by frequent sounds of applause.
From among the seniors standing guard in cap and gown at the chapel
door, the quick artistic eye of my companion selected a brown-eyed
auburn-haired young goddess as the one from whom tickets might most
appropriately be bought. Nor did he display thrift in the transaction.
Instead of buying modest quarter seats he magnificently purchased the
fifty-cent kind.
The dazzling ticket seller, transformed to usher, now led us into the
crowded auditorium and down an aisle. A few rows from the stage she
stopped, and, fastening a frigid gaze upon two hapless young women who
were seated some distance in from the passageway, bade them emerge and
yield their place to us.
Of course we instantly protested, albeit in whispers, as the play was
going on.
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