“Of course she does.  We have lots of fun.  Why?”

“But she’s a girl!”

“Of course she’s a girl,” agreed Freddie.  “She couldn’t be my sister if she wasn’t a girl.  I’ve got another sister, too, but she’s bigger.  She’s sitting on the end of the row.  She plays with Bert and Flossie plays with me.  We’re two sets of twins.  Don’t you like girls?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Laddie slowly.  “I never played with ’em much.  I—­I like your sister, though.  She can play with us.  Do you ever play store?”

“Lots of times,” said Freddie.  “We take some dirt for sugar, some little stones for eggs, some big stones for loaves of bread, clam shells and pieces of tin for dishes—­we have lots of fun like that.  But we haven’t had any fun that way since we came to New York.  I fell on a turtle’s back in the ’quarium, though, and had a ride.”

“You did!” cried Laddie, so loudly that many persons in near-by seats turned to smile at him.

“Sure I did,” answered Freddie.  “I’ll tell you about it.  I was scared at first, but——­”

“Laddie, dear, the curtain is going up and you had better keep quiet,” said the elderly lady who was with the new boy.

“Is she your mother?” Freddie asked.

“No, she’s my aunt.  My mother is out in California, but she’s comin’ home soon, and I’m glad of it, though my aunt is awful nice.”

“Hush!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey, thinking it was Freddie talking, for now the last act had started.  So the two little boys quieted down, each one resolved to start talking again as soon as he could.

The last act of the show proved to be uproariously funny, and Freddie laughed and laughed until he was in danger of rolling on the floor again.  But he was held fast in his seat, and so that danger was averted.

“Say, Freddie, wouldn’t you like to be an actor man?” questioned Flossie, during a brief interval in the play.

“Sure, I’m going to be an actor man when I grow up,” responded her brother quickly.

“But you’re going to be a fireman too, ain’t you?” queried his sister.

“Of course!  I’m going to be an actor man and a fireman too,” replied Freddie.  “I can act in a theatre when there aren’t any fires to be put out.”

“But what would you do if you were all dressed up as an actor man when you had to go out to ?” asked his sister.

“Oh, I’d just tell the people that I couldn’t act any more, and then I’d run right out and get my engine,” answered Freddie simply.

“I guess I’d like to be an actor man too,” put in Laddie.  “I heard a big boy tell once that they earn bushels and bushels of money.”

“Sure, they do,” answered Freddie.  “They make a thousand dollars a minute, I guess.”

The play ended in a jolly lot of fun and music, and everybody was laughing when the final curtain went down.  Fathers and mothers, who had come to bring their children, talked with one another, though they were strangers, and it was because of this that Mrs. Bobbsey, when Freddie and Laddie started to talk together again about the turtle ride, nodded and smiled at the elderly lady with whom Laddie had come to the theatre.