THE SISTERS SILVERTWANG.
Voluble Lady in the Shilling Stalls (telling her Male Companion an interminable story with an evasive point). No, but you 'ear what I'm going to tell you, because I'm coming to it presently. I can't remember his name at this moment—something like Budkin, but it wasn't that, somewhere near Bond Street, he is, or a street off there; a Scotchman, but that doesn't matter! (Here she breaks off to hum the Chorus of "Good Ole Mother-in-Law!" which is being sung on the stage.) Well, let me see—what was I telling you? Wait a minute, excuse me, oh, yes,—well, there was this picture,—mind you, it's a lovely painting, but the frame simply nothing,—not that I go by frames, myself, o' course not, but I fetched it down to show him—oh, I know what you'll say, but he must know something about such things; he knew my uncle, and I can tell you what he is—he's a florist, and married nineteen years, and his wife's forty—years older than me, but I've scarcely spoke to her, and no children, so I fetched it to show him, and as soon as he sets eyes on it, he says——(Female "Character-Comic" on Stage, lugubriously. "Ritolderiddle, ol deray ritolderiddle, olde-ri-ido!") I can't tell you how old it is, but 'undreds of years, and Chinese, I shouldn't wonder, but we can't trace its 'istry—that's what he said, and if he don't know, nobody does, for it stands to reason he must be a judge, though nothing to me,—when I say nothing, I mean all I know of him is that he used to be——(Tenor Vocalist on Stage. "My Sweetheart when a Bo-oy!") I always like that song, don't you? Well, and this is what I was wanting to tell you, she got to know what I'd done—how is more'n I can tell you, but she did, and she come straight in to where I was, and I see in a minute she'd been drinking, for drink she does, from morning to night, but I don't mind that, and her bonnet all on the back of her head, and her voice that 'usky, she——(Tenor. "She sang a Song of Home Sweet Home—a song that reached my heart!") And I couldn't be expected to put up with that, you know, but I haven't 'alf told you yet—well, &c., &c.
IN THE RESERVED STALLS.
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?