Two days after, Carte saw him with his moustache on again; but, taking no particular notice, said:
"Let me see, have you been to Barraud's?"
Mr. X. said: "Yes, sir; I went yesterday."
D'Oyly Carte thought it seemed rather odd, for he made sure he had seen Mr. X. two days previously without the moustache. Now he had a full-grown one, with the regular platform singer's waxed ends.
D'Oyly Carte, being a busy man, walked away, and was soon thinking of other matters.
The first dress rehearsal took place, and Mr. X. had no moustache. Mr. Carte met him again next day in the street, and, lo and behold! there was the moustache on again. Actors are frequently in the habit of "soaping" down their moustaches; but such a one as Mr. X. supported could not be soaped down. Carte was so puzzled that he said to Mr. X.:
"I thought you had shaved your moustache?"
Mr. X. replied: "So I have, sir; but when I sing at concerts, or 'do' Bond Street, I stick on one for a little while. Nobody would notice it was not my own, and I look so much better with a moustache."
"Do you make yourself up, Mr. Grossmith?"
As this question is so frequently asked of me, I will satisfy the curious by saying that I always do. No one has ever touched my face but myself. I select my own colours, powders, rouges, and try several effects of complexions, before finally deciding on one. I have a little dressing-room to myself—the only one who has at the Savoy. Being short-sighted, I make up with a hand-glass in my left hand. My dressing-table is very high, and I have several bright electric lights thrown on my face. I do not think the painted lines on the face should ever be seen, even from the stalls. I think no make-up should be detected from the front, and I have no hesitation in saying that the ghastly white faces, pink cheeks, and scarlet lips indulged in, even by the ladies of our theatre, are simply hideous.