“Ain’t ut crowdut?” murmured Mr. Sieppe.  Every seat was taken; many were even standing up.

“I always like it better when there is a crowd,” said Trina.  She was in great spirits that evening.  Her round, pale face was positively pink.

The orchestra banged away at the overture, suddenly finishing with a great flourish of violins.  A short pause followed.  Then the orchestra played a quick-step strain, and the curtain rose on an interior furnished with two red chairs and a green sofa.  A girl in a short blue dress and black stockings entered in a hurry and began to dust the two chairs.  She was in a great temper, talking very fast, disclaiming against the “new lodger.”  It appeared that this latter never paid his rent; that he was given to late hours.  Then she came down to the footlights and began to sing in a tremendous voice, hoarse and flat, almost like a man’s.  The chorus, of a feeble originality, ran: 

     “Oh, how happy I will be,
     When my darling’s face I’ll see;
     Oh, tell him for to meet me in the moonlight,
     Down where the golden lilies bloom.”

The orchestra played the tune of this chorus a second time, with certain variations, while the girl danced to it.  She sidled to one side of the stage and kicked, then sidled to the other and kicked again.  As she finished with the song, a man, evidently the lodger in question, came in.  Instantly McTeague exploded in a roar of laughter.  The man was intoxicated, his hat was knocked in, one end of his collar was unfastened and stuck up into his face, his watch-chain dangled from his pocket, and a yellow satin slipper was tied to a button-hole of his vest; his nose was vermilion, one eye was black and blue.  After a short dialogue with the girl, a third actor appeared.  He was dressed like a little boy, the girl’s younger brother.  He wore an immense turned-down collar, and was continually doing hand-springs and wonderful back somersaults.  The “act” devolved upon these three people; the lodger making love to the girl in the short blue dress, the boy playing all manner of tricks upon him, giving him tremendous digs in the ribs or slaps upon the back that made him cough, pulling chairs from under him, running on all fours between his legs and upsetting him, knocking him over at inopportune moments.  Every one of his falls was accentuated by a bang upon the bass drum.  The whole humor of the “act” seemed to consist in the tripping up of the intoxicated lodger.

This horse-play delighted McTeague beyond measure.  He roared and shouted every time the lodger went down, slapping his knee, wagging his head.  Owgooste crowed shrilly, clapping his hands and continually asking, “What did he say, ma?  What did he say?” Mrs. Sieppe laughed immoderately, her huge fat body shaking like a mountain of jelly.  She exclaimed from time to time, “Ach, Gott, dot fool!” Even Trina was moved, laughing demurely, her lips closed, putting one hand with its new glove to her mouth.