VOCES POPULI.
Scene—A Promenade Concert. Interval between Parts I. and II. Crowd collecting before Platform.
Highly Respectable Matron (to female Friend). As to being beautiful, it's not for me to say, but they're clean-limbed, healthy children, thank Heaven! and what more do you want? (The Friend makes a complimentary protest.) Well, it may be so; but, to come back to her. I don't like her present home so well as I did her first—not so tasty, to my mind. She's got nice things about her, though, I will say—a nice sideboard, a nice ... (Inventory follows here.)
The Friend (darkly). All the same, it's a constant wonder to me how she can ever bring herself to sleep in that bed!
The H. R. M. I couldn't myself; but (charitably) we've not all the same feelings. (Crush increases; Female Promenader with very yellow hair passes, with apologies.) "Excuse me, Madame" (with attempt at mimicry); ah—and she needs it! The orchestra's coming back now. I didn't notice that young woman among them before—what's she going to play, I wonder?
The Friend. Whatever it is, she might look more pleasant over it!
The H. R. M. So she might—we can't all be good-looking, but we can all be pleasant—but they wouldn't have engaged her here, if she hadn't her gift!
The Friend. Oh, you may depend on it, she's got a gift—but I do call her plain, myself.
A Man with a very red nose (to Companion). And then, you see, I've this special advantage—my immense knowledge of the world. Think there's time for another before they begin again, eh?
[Companion is of that opinion; adjournment to bar of house.
Second Part begins; Lady Vocalist retiring after Song.
First Promenader. Brayvo! Engcore! What, she won't sing no more—sssh! [Hisses furiously.
The H. R. M. There's the orchestra themselves clapping her—and they'd know what's good.
Her Friend. She was dressed very nice, I thought.
The H. R. M. I never care to see hair done up that style myself.