Afterwards they all sauntered to the esplanade, and Conrad owned to himself that it was no animated scene. But the sun shone bright, and when there is beautiful weather in Sweetbay it almost compensates for the absence of everything else there.
"Like spring," he observed; "isn't it? Probably there's a fog in town by now, or it's beginning to snow. We're all well out of it."
"Y-e-s," replied Nina. "You don't find it a little depressing seeing so many people in bath-chairs, do you?"
"'So many people?'" Regina was derisive. "I've only seen seven human beings since we arrived."
"Still the seven were all in bath-chairs," said Nina.
"One expects to meet people in bath-chairs at the seaside," Conrad pleaded.
"But not sick people," she said, "here they are conscientious. It's a pretty little band-stand; what time does the band play?"
"It'll begin in June, I think," he answered.
"It's not the season," he pointed out. "Of course it's quiet just now."
"I don't wish to cavil," said Ted, with a forbearing smile, "but when you tell us it is not the season, I am struck by a slight discrepancy in your statements. A few minutes ago you told us it was a winter place."
"Well, so it is, but it's first of all an English place. You mustn't ask for bands to discourse in band-stands all the year round, my dear fellow--such things don't happen.... A 'town band' enlivens the streets once a week, I believe; I'm not an authority yet--I only came down yesterday morning, and I've been setting my house in order. There's a theatre," he added hopefully; "we might drop in to-night, if you like. I can't say what is going on there, but we'll ascertain."
They spied a framed play-bill in a confectioner's window on the way back, and stopped to examine it. Though the piece was familiar to them, and the names of the company were strange, they crowded before the play-bill cheerfully until they discovered that it bore an ancient date. The theatre, they learnt, was now closed, excepting for an orchestral concert every Thursday evening. This was Saturday.
"We'll have a jolly evening at home," said Conrad.
"There isn't a billiard table, I suppose?" inquired Regina; "I'm an awful swell with the cue. I make them play every night at the Abbey when we're there. Polpero chaffs me about it immensely; he's one of the old school--sweet, but of the old school. It's such fun--I chaff him back. Toto _roars_."