A MODERN REHEARSAL
Leading Lady (to Stage Manager). Who's that man in the ulster coat talking to the call-boy?
Stage Manager. Don't know, I'm sure. Perhaps a gas-fitter. Now, as I was saying, Miss Frisette, I think that all your alterations in the dialogue are quite up to date, but we must give Splitter a chance for his cackle. Ah! here he is.
Splitter. Well, old boy, I've worked in that scene to rights, but the boss thinks that some allusions to Turkey served up with German sausage would fetch 'em. So you might chuck it in for me.
Stage Man. Of course I will. Capital idea. (Marks prompt-book.) I wonder who that chap is in the wing?
Splitter. Haven't the faintest idea. Looks like an undertaker. Hallo, Wobbler, brought your new song?
Wobbler. Yes, it ought to go. And I've a gross or so of capital wheezes.
Splitter. No poaching, old chap.
Wobbler. Of course not. I'll not let them off when you're on. Morning, Miss Skid. Perfect, I suppose?
Miss Skid (brightly). I'm always "perfect." But—(seriously)—I had to cut all the idiotic stuff in my part, and get Peter Quip of "The Kangaroo" to put in something up to date. Here's the boss!