 the unities are?«
    Mr. Curdle coughed and considered. »The unities, sir,« he said, »are a
completeness - a kind of a universal dovetailedness with regard to place and
time - a sort of a general oneness, if I may be allowed to use so strong an
expression. I take those to be the dramatic unities, so far as I have been
enabled to bestow attention upon them, and I have read much upon the subject,
and thought much. I find, running through the performances of this child,« said
Mr. Curdle, turning to the phenomenon, »a unity of feeling, a breadth, a light
and shade, a warmth of colouring, a tone, a harmony, a glow, an artistical
development of original conceptions, which I look for, in vain, among older
performers. I don't know whether I make myself understood?«
    »Perfectly,« replied Nicholas.
    »Just so,« said Mr. Curdle, pulling up his neckcloth. »That is my definition
of the unities of the drama.«
    Mrs. Curdle had sat listening to this lucid explanation with great
complacency. It being finished, she inquired what Mr. Curdle thought, about
putting down their names.
    »I don't know, my dear; upon my word I don't know,« said Mr. Curdle. »If we
do, it must be distinctly understood that we do not pledge ourselves to the
quality of the performances. Let it go forth to the world, that we do not give
them the sanction of our names, but that we confer the distinction merely upon
Miss Snevellicci. That being clearly stated, I take it to be, as it were, a
duty, that we should extend our patronage to a degraded stage, even for the sake
of the associations with which it is entwined. Have you got two-and-sixpence for
half-a-crown, Miss Snevellicci?« said Mr. Curdle, turning over four of those
pieces of money.
    Miss Snevellicci felt in all the corners of the pink reticule, but there was
nothing in any of them. Nicholas murmured a jest about his being an author, and
thought it best not to go through the form of feeling in his own pockets at all.
    »Let me see,« said Mr. Curdle; »twice four's eight - four shillings a-piece
to the boxes, Miss Snevellicci, is exceedingly dear in the present state of the
drama - three half-crowns is seven-and-six; we shall
