FIRST PROFESSIONAL LADY, "_resting_," _to_ SECOND DITTO (_as_ MISS
FLORRIE FOLJAMBE _appears on Stage_). New dresses to-night.
SECOND DITTO. Yes. (_Inspects_ MISS F.'S _costume_.) Something wrong
with that boy's dress in front, though, cut too low. Is that silver
bullion it's trimmed with? That silver stuff they put on my
pantomime-dress has turned quite yellow!
FIRST DITTO. It will sometimes. Did you know any of the critics when you
were down at Slagtown for the Panto?
SECOND DITTO. I knew the _Grimeshire Mercury_, and he said most awfully
rude things about me in his paper. I was rather rude to him at
rehearsal, but we made it up afterwards. You know Lily's married, dear?
FIRST DITTO. What--Lily? You don't mean it!
SECOND DITTO. Oh, yes, she _is_, though. She went out to Buenos Ayres,
and the other day she was taken in to dinner by the Bishop of the
Friendly Islands.
FIRST DITTO. A Bishop? _Fancy!_ That _is_ getting on, isn't it?
MISS FOLJAMBE (_on Stage, acknowledging an encore_). Ladies and
Gentlemen, I am very much obliged for your kind reception this evening,
but having been lately laid up with a bad cold, and almost entirely lost
my vice, and being still a little 'orse, I feel compelled to ask your
kind acceptance of a few 'ornpipe steps, after which I 'ope to remain,
Ladies and Gentlemen, always your obedient 'umble servant to
command--Florrie Foljambe!
[_Tumultuous applause, and hornpipe._
CHAIRMAN. Professor Boodler, the renowned Imitator of Birds, will appear
next!
THE PROFESSOR (_on Stage_). Ladies and Gentlemen, I shall commence by an
attempt to give you an imitation of that popular and favourite songster
the Thrush--better known to some of you, I dare say, as the Throstle, or
Mavis! (_He gives the Thrush--which somehow doesn't "go."_) I shall next
endeavour to represent that celebrated and tuneful singing-bird--the
Sky-lark. (_He does it, but the Lark doesn't quite come off._) I shall
next try to give you those two sweet singers, the Male and Female
Canary--the gentleman in the stalls with the yellow 'air will represent
the female bird on this occasion, he must not be offended, for it is a
'igh compliment I am paying him, a harmless professional joke. (_The
Canaries obtain but tepid acknowledgments._) I shall now conclude my
illustrations of bird-life with my celebrated imitation of a waiter
drawing the cork from a bottle of gingerbeer, and drinking it
afterwards.
[_Does so; rouses the audience to frantic enthusiasm, and retires after
triple recall._
THE VOLUBLE LADY _in the Shilling Stalls_ (_during the performance of a
Thrilling Melodramatic Sketch_). I've nothing to say against her
'usban', a quiet, respectable man, and always treated _me_ as a lady,
with grey whiskers--but that's neither here nor there--and I speak of
parties as I find them--_well_. _That_ was a Thursday. On the _Saturday_
there came a knock at my door, and I answered it, and there was she
saying, as cool as you please----(HEROINE ON STAGE. "Ah, no, no--you
would not ruin me? You will not tell my husband?") So I told her. "I'm
very sorry," I says, "but I can't lend that frying-pan to nobody." So I
got up. Two hours _after_, as I was going down stairs, she come out of
her room, and says,--"'Allo, Rose, 'ow _are_ yer?" as if nothing had
'appened. "Oh, jolly," I says, or somethink o' that sort--_I_ wasn't
going to take no notice of _her_--and she says, "Going out?"--like that.
I says, "Oh, yes; nothing to stay in for," I says, careless-like; so
Mrs. Piper, _she_ never said nothing, and _I_ didn't say nothing; and
so it went on till Monday--_well_! Her 'usban' met me in the passage;
and he said to me--good-tempered and civil enough, I _must_ say--he
said----(VILLAIN ON STAGE. "Curse you! I've had enough of this fooling!
Give me money, or I'll twist your neck, and fling you into yonder
mill-dam, to drown!") So o' course I'd no objection to that; and all she
wanted, in the way of eatables and drink, she _'ad_--no, let me finish
_my_ story first. Well, just fancy _'er_ now! She asked me to step in;
and she says, "Ow are you?" and was very nice, and I never said a
word--not wishing to bring up the past, and--I didn't tell you
_this_--they'd a kind of old easy chair in the room--and the only remark
_I_ made, not meaning anythink, was----(HERO ON STAGE. "You infernal,
black-hearted scoundrel! this is _your_ work, is it?") Well, I couldn't
ha'put it more pleasant than that, _could_ I? and old Mr. Fitkin, as was
settin' on it, he says to me, he says----(HERO. "Courage, my darling!
You shall not perish if my strong arms can save you. Heaven help me to
rescue the woman I love better than my life!") but he's 'alf silly, so I
took no partickler notice of _'im_, when, what did that woman do, after
stoopin' to me, as she 'as, times without number--but--Oh, is the play
over? Well, as I was saying--oh, _I'm_ ready to go if you are, and I can
tell you the rest walking home. [_Exit, having thoroughly enjoyed her
evening._
A Recitation Under Difficulties.
SCENE.--_An Evening Party_; MISS FRESIA BLUDKINSON, _a talented
young Professional Reciter, has been engaged to entertain the
company, and is about to deliver the favourite piece entitled_,
"_The Lover of Lobelia Bangs, a Cowboy Idyl_." _There is the
usual crush, and the guests outside the drawing-room, who can
neither hear nor see what is going on, console themselves by
conversing in distinctly audible tones._ _Jammed in a doorway,
between the persons who are trying to get in, and the people
who would be only too glad to get out, is an_ UNSOPHISTICATED
GUEST _who doesn't know a soul, and is consequently reduced to
listening to the Recitation_. _This is what he hears_:--
MISS FRESIA BLUD. (_in a tone of lady-like apology_).