Mr. LAMBERT _and_ Mrs. CRUMPINGTON (_chance
partners_).
_Mr. Lambert_ (_feeling his way_). Been to the Opera often this season,
Mrs. CRUMPINGTON?
_Mrs. Crumpington._ Oh, very often. I am so devoted to music, you know,
that I go whenever I can. And, talking of music, have you heard that
new pianist, Herr--what _is_ his name?--oh yes, Herr WIDOWSKI?
He's too delicious for words!
_Mr. L._ No; I can't say that I go to concerts much. You should talk to
my daughter ETHEL--she's devoted to music, and they tell me
that she's got a really fine voice. I'm sure she practises enough.
_Mrs. C._ Indeed? Well, I've no voice, I'm sorry to say; but I play the
piano a little--only a _very_ little, you know.
_Mr. L._ Wonderful what a lot of people _do_ play in these
days--(_hastily_)--not like _you_, of course; but one hears pianos and
fiddles going in every house, and most of them are simply instruments
of torture.
_Mrs. C._ (_smiling_). Rather a rash remark--isn't it? You've never
heard me play, you see! (Mr. L. _endeavours to protest_.) Oh, but
I assure you I quite agree with you. For instance, my next-door
neighbours are always making the most awful noises--playing and singing
morning, noon, and night. The wall is very thin, and I am nearly driven
crazy.
_Mr. L._ (_warmly_). My dear Madam, I can sympathise with you entirely.
I've often thought that Parliament ought to pass a Bill for enforcing
a close-time in domestic music. Of course it only matters to me in the
evening, but we're troubled exactly in the same way as yourself. And
my poor ETHEL finds her singing constantly interrupted by the
disgusting row made by our next-door neighbour. I suppose he must take
a pleasure in annoying us--anyhow he's jammed his wretched piano right
up against our drawing-room wall, and bangs and thumps on it for about
six hours a day. Of course it would be bad enough if the fellow played
well; but you never heard such ghastly noises as he makes!
_Mrs. C._ How sorry I am for your poor daughter! Yes; people complain
in the papers and grumble about street-bands and piano-organs; but at
least one can send them away--which, unfortunately, one can't do in the
case of next-door neighbours! However, I suppose I ought to be grateful
that the people on the other side don't play at all.
_Mr. L._ Ah! I live in a corner-house. But I think a little opposition
noise would almost be a relief--a kind of homeopathic cure, you know.
_Mrs. C._ One's quite enough for _me_. It's been getting worse, too,
these last few weeks, and I'm delighted to meet a fellow-sufferer.
Come; can't we concoct some joint scheme of deliverance? Do
you think it would answer if I sent round a polite note--"Mrs.
CRUMPINGTON presents her compliments to Mr."--whatever their
name is--"and would be extremely obliged,"--and so on. How would that
do?
_Mr. L._ (_decisively_). Wouldn't be the least use, I assure you, or
I'd have tried that plan myself long ago. The only result would be that
they'd make more row than ever, on purpose to score off you. No, I
fancy I've got a better plan than that.
_Mrs. C._ (_eagerly_). Oh, do tell me what it is!
_Mr. L._ Well, I happened to notice in a shop in Holborn the other day
one of these new American toys, it's a kind of small fog-horn, driven
by a pair of bellows. And the noise it makes is something terrific, I
assure you--loud enough to drown half-a-dozen pianos. So I've ordered
one of these, and as soon as ever that scoundrel strikes up next door,
I shall turn on the horn; then, directly he stops, I'll stop too, you
see. Rather a good idea, don't you think?
_Mrs. C._ (_much amused_). It is, _indeed!_ If only the poor wretch
next door knew what was in store for him! Oh, if only I could silence
_my_ enemy in that way! But then, of course, I can't a blow a horn.
_Mr. L._ That isn't necessary; all you have to do is to work the
bellows, and the thing goes by itself. Really, I strongly recommend you
to invest in one.
_Mrs. C._ It would be a good plan, wouldn't it? Where did you say they
are to be had?
_Mr. L._ I'll write down the address, if I can find a scrap of paper.
[_Takes out a card-case from his pocket, pencils address on back of
visiting card, and hands it to_ Mrs. C.
_Mrs. C._ Thank you _so_ much, I'll certainly think about getting one
(_looks absently at the other side of the card_) if they're not too
dear, and----(_Gasping._) Good gracious heavens!
_Mr. L._ (_anxiously_). What's the matter? Are you ill?
_Mrs. C._ (_pointing to the printed side of the card in her hand_). Is
this your real address?
_Mr. L._ (_much astonished_). "No. 1, Yarborough Gardens?" Yes,
certainly it is. Why do you ask?
_Mrs. C._ (_faintly_). Because--because _I_ live next door at No. 3!!
[_Tableau! Curtain._
* * * * *
[Illustration: WHAT THE NEW WOMAN WILL MAKE OF THE NEW MAN!
"IF YOU WANT ME TO KEEP THE NEXT DANCE FOR YOU, YOU MUST WAIT UNDER
THIS DOOR. I CAN'T GO RUSHING ALL OVER THE ROOM TO _LOOK_ FOR YOU, YOU
KNOW!"]
* * * * *