(Enter Mrs. Fiddler, Miss F. and Master F.)
Manager.—Your pleasure, madam?
Mrs. F.—My name is Fiddler, sir; did you ever hear of me? I've got a friend, a supernumerary at Astley's who has great influence in the theatrical world; he promised to speak to you; has he done so?
Manager.—Really, madam, I do not remember to have had an interview with any such person.
Mrs. F.—Indeed! that's strange: but I suppose you've heard of the clever Fiddlers?
Manager.—You mean Paganini, perhaps, and De Beriot?
Mrs. F.—No, indeed, I don't; I mean my clever children here, Master and Miss Fiddler.
Manager.—Indeed, madam; I'm happy to make their acquaintance.
Mrs. F.—And so you ought to be, sir. Come here, Julietta: this young lady, sir, has got such a voice! It goes upon the high C's as safe as an East-Indiaman. I want you to engage her.
Manager.—I should like to hear her sing, before I thought of engaging her; she might fail.