Part 13 (1/2)

_No. 1._ What do you mean by that? I only want to pop in and out between the accounts.

_No. 3._ Then the Diddlers ought to suit you. They rose six last week, and ought to touch ten before settling day.

_No. 1._ Then I am on. Thanks very much for the information. Ah!

the curtain has fallen. So much for the first act! (_Enter visitor._) Ah! how are you? Where are you?

_Visitor._ Well, I have got a stall, but I have only just come into the house. What are they playing?

_No. 2._ I am sure I don't know; but if you are curious about it, here's the programme.

_Visitor._ And what's it all about?

_No. 1_ (_on behalf of self and companions_). We haven't the faintest notion.

[_Conversation becomes general, and remains so until the end of the evening, regardless of the dialogue on the stage side of the curtain._

[Ill.u.s.tration: MELODRAMA IN THE SUBURBS.--_Elder Sister._ ”Do give up, Nellie! They're only acting.” _Nellie_ (_tearfully_). ”You leave me alone. I'm enjoying it!”]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RULING Pa.s.sION.--_Doctor._ ”No, my dear sir, we must keep ourselves quiet for the present. No stimulants--nothing more exciting than gruel. Gruel for breakfast, gruel for luncheon, gruel for dinner, gruel for----” _Peter Pundoleful_ (_a noted burlesque writer--though you wouldn't have thought it to look at him--rousing himself suddenly_). ”Ah! my dear doctor, why is there not a society for the prevention of gruelty to animals?”]

HIS FIRST AND LAST PLAY

RALPH ESSENDEAN, _aged about fifty, is discovered at a writing-desk. He studies a newspaper, from which he reads aloud, thoughtfully:--”So that a successful play may bring its author anything from five to twenty thousand pounds.” He lays down the paper, mutters, ”H'm!” and taking up a pencil bites it meditatively. Enter Mrs. Essendean._

_Mrs. Essendean_ (_crossing to Ralph, and placing her hand on his shoulder, asks affectionately_). Well, dear, and how is the play getting on?

_Ralph_ (_irritably_). You talk of the play, Matilda, as though it were possible to write a four-act drama in ten minutes. The play is not getting on at all well, for the simple reason that I am only just thinking out the idea.

_Mrs. Essendean_ (_seating herself by the table_). How nice, dear! And what _is_ the idea?

_Ralph_ (_grimly_). That is just what I am wondering about. Now if you will kindly retire to the kitchen and make an omelette, or discharge the cook, I shall be obliged.

[_Leans over his desk._

_Mrs. E._ But, dear, I am sure the cook is a most excellent servant, and----

_Ralph_ (_turning round and speaking with repressed exasperation_). That was simply my attempt at a humorous explanation of my wish to be alone, Matilda.

_Mrs. E._ (_smiling indulgently and rising_). Well, dear, of course if it's going to be a _funny_ play, I know you would like to be alone.

(_Pausing at the open door._) And will you read it to us after dinner?

You know the Willoughby-Smythes will be here, and Mr. and Mrs. Vallance from the Bank are coming in afterwards. I am sure they would like to hear it.

_Ralph_ (_irritably_). The play isn't written yet. (_Plaintively._) _Do_ go!