Answer. "Because you can put your foot in it—if you like."
After that we all went home.
CHAPTER VI.
A friend of ours, Dudley Wegger, who recently gave an extemporaneous entertainment, amongst other things, devised a new kind of play, of such exceedingly simple construction that we have judged it expedient to put it on record. It must be observed that it is his method especially which we applaud and recommend, and further be it observed, that we applaud and recommend it on account of no other excellence save that of simplicity.
Mr. Wegger possessed the power of imitating one or two popular actors. He had read our instructions on make-up—viz.: curled hair, turn-up nose, high shoulders, etc., and from these slender materials he made the body of his play. As soon as we arrived, he seized upon ourself, dragged us into a back room, put a hideous mask on our face (which smelt painfully of glue and brown paper, by the way), and then commanded us to don sundry articles of female attire—to wit, a hat and gown. To our earnest appeals as to what we were to do, he only replied:
"Oh, nothing; just come on the stage, kick about, and answer my questions. You hold the stage and talk to the audience, whilst I go off and change my dress."
This we pledged ourself to do, and were nearly suffocated in the mask as a consequence.
When the curtain rose, Wegger marched on the stage attired in blue coat, brass buttons, striped pantaloons, yellow vest, and stylish hat stuck on one side. In his hand he held a small walking-cane, with which he frequently slapped his leg. This was the walking-gentleman part.