And I have not heard that the parsimonious manager, who proposed to reduce the salaries of his musicians on the ground that they every night enjoyed admission to the best seats, for which they paid nothing, "even when stars were performing," ever succeeded in convincing his band of the justice of his arguments.
The juvenile patron of the drama will, of course, in due time become less absorbed in his own view of the situation, and learn that just as one man's meat is another man's poison, so the pleasures of some are the pains of others.

He will cease to search the faces of the orchestra for any evidence of "pride of place," or enjoyment of performances they witness, not as volunteers, but as pressed men.

He will understand that they are at work, and are influenced by a natural anxiety to escape from work as soon as may be.

So, the overture ended, they vanish, and leave the actors to do their best or their worst, as the case may be.

But our young friend's sentiments are not peculiar to himself--have been often shared, indeed, by very experienced persons.
We have heard of comic singers and travelling entertainment givers who have greatly resented the air of indifference of their musical accompanist.