Pygmalion's Dream (from the Mystic gloom). Wait a bit till I've done warming my 'ands. Now you can turn the lights up ... there, you've bin and turned 'em out now, stoopid! The Y. S. Don't you excite yourself. I know what I'm doin'. (Turns the lights up, and reveals a large terra-cotta Bust.) At my request, this young lydy will now perceed to assoom the yew and kimplexion of life itself. Galatear, will you oblige us by kindly coming to life?
[The Bust vanishes, and is replaced by a decidedly earthly Young Woman in robust health.
The Y. S. Thenk you. That's all I wanted of yer. Now, will you kindly return to your former styte?
[The Young Woman transforms herself into a hideous Skull.
The Y. S. (in a tone of remonstrance). No—no, not that ridiklous fice! We don't want to see what yer will be—it's very loike yer, I know but still—(the skull changes to the Bust.) Ah, that's more the stoyle! (Takes the Bust by the neck and hands it round for inspection.) And now, thenking you for your kind attention, and on'y 'orskin one little fyvour of you, that is, that you will not reveal 'ow it is done, I will now bid you a very good evenin', Lydies and Gentlemen!
The F. S. (outside). It's wonderful how they can do it all for threepence, isn't it? We haven't seen She yet!
Her Comp. What! 'aven't you seen wonders enough? Come on, then. But you are going it you know!
[They enter a small room, at the further end of which are a barrier and proscenium with drawn hangings.
The Exhibitor (in a confidential tone, punctuated by bows). I will not keep you waiting, Ladies and Gentlemen, but at once proceed with a few preliminary remarks. Most of you, no doubt, have read that celebrated story by Mr. Rider 'Aggard, about a certain She-who-must-be-obeyed, and who dwelt in a place called Kôr, and you will also doubtless remember how she was in the 'abit of repairing at certain intervals, to a cavern, and renooing her youth in a fiery piller. On one occasion, wishing to indooce her lover to foller her example, she stepped into the flame to encourage him—something went wrong with the works, and she was instantly redooced to a cinder. I fortunately 'appened to be near at the time (you will escuse a little wild fib from a showman, I'm sure!) I 'appened to be porsin by, and was thus enabled to secure the ashes of the Wonderful She, which—(draws hangings and reveals a shallow metal Urn suspended in the centre of scene) are now before you enclosed in that little urn. She—where are you?
She (in a full sweet voice from below). I am 'ere!