(_A Dramatic Forecast of the Farce of the Future._)
SCENE--_Smoking-room of the Toy Club. Reformed members sipping
lemon-squashes and inhaling tea-leaf cigarettes and reading
"The Happy Hearth" and periodicals of a similar character._
_First Member._ I am heartily glad that the committee decided to
change the name of the club from the Handicap to the Toy, as it has
brought an influx of such extremely eligible members. The bishop is
perfectly charming.
_Second Member._ Quite so, and really the archdeacon's stories are
first rate. I suppose you heard his anecdote about the pew-opener who
thought that matins were a substitute for oil-cloth?
_First Mem._ Excellent, it was told me yesterday by the Lord
Chancellor of British Undiscoveredland. And how much better it is that
we are not allowed to bet in the old-fashioned way. When you come to
think of it, there was something amazingly demoralising in permitting
a Guinea Club Sweep for the Derby.
_Second Mem._ I should think so! I give you my word that I put my name
down in every single sweep in the old Handicap for fifteen years, and
never once drew a starter.
_First Mem._ My experience too. Have you heard whether there is to be
any substitute for the sweep this year?
_Second Mem._ Why, yes. I was told by a member of the Recreation
Committee that all members taking the bread-and-milk luncheon daily
for a week are to have chances for the Grand Derby Race Christmas
Tree.
_First Mem._ Isn't a Christmas Tree a little too late or too previous
in June?
_Second Mem._ Well, yes; but then it was said that once the Derby was
run in a snow-storm, and so we might take it that sometimes we have
winter in summer.
_First Mem._ I see. Have you any idea what the prizes are to be?
_Second Mem._ Oh, some of them will be very handsome. I am told that
the tree is to be decorated with tea-cozies and silver-mounted blue
spectacles.
_First Mem._ Really! I shall not forget to take my one o'clock
bread-and-milk regularly in the coffee-room for the next week. I
suppose you have quite given up your betting-book?
_Second Mem._ Well, no, because you see the Act permits betting in
moderation, and under proper restrictions. For instance, I am quite
prepared to take seven to one against Snuffbox for the Hardbake
Selling Stakes, only of course it must be in peppermint drops.
_First Mem._ (_producing betting-book_). Well, I would accommodate
you if I were not overburdened with peppermint-drops. Make it
brandy-balls, and I will do it in ounces.
_Second Mem._ (_referring to betting-book_). I am not particularly
fond of that sweetstuff, but I think I can act as commissioner for
my aunt. (_Enters bet._) Is your list full for The Band of Joy
Two-year-old Caudle Cup?
_First Mem._ (_after reference to betting-book_). Well, I don't mind
backing my opinion about the Churchwarden's _County Council_. Do you
know his price?
_Second Mem._ I see in the _Charity Box_ of last night that he was
in considerable demand at Tattersall's. As much as two to one in
Abyssinian sugar-sticks was taken freely. I don't mind letting you
have a pound of mixed biscuits to an ounce of Everton toffy, if that
will suit you.
_First Mem._ All right. (_Makes entry in betting-book._) And now I
really must go.
_First Mem._ What, are you off?
_Second Mem._ Why, yes. I want to see my stockbroker. I have quite a
heavy flutter on in connection with these new Carbonate of Soda Mines.
If they don't go up a bit before the next account I may lose a cool
thousand.
_First Mem._ Just my case. However, I shall be able to pull through,
as now that gambling is prohibited on the turf and in the club, there
is more money available for different purposes.
[_Exeunt for the City._
* * * * *