First Mem. Distinctly amusing. Both Bourchier and his wife excellent, and Kate Phillips, as a sorrow-stricken cook, capital. Not quite sure whether it would not have been better to have left M. le Directeur in France. He was there to the manner born; but in England—well, to put it plainly, the Home Office in Soho is not in the least like the Home Office in Whitehall.
Third Mem. (finishing a glass of "improved" soda water). But is it intended to be?
Second Mem. I don't know, but a good many of the audience (presumably the gentlemen of the pit and gallery) will adopt the assumption. After all, to be a member of the Civil Service is something, even in these degenerate days. The sketch of official life in Soho will not enhance the dignity of the—shall we call it?—profession. But concede that the local colouring is appropriate, and The Chili Widow is simply first-rate.
Third Mem. Better than Bogey at the St. James's?
Second Mem. So I have been told. And how about the Garrick?
First Mem. Alabama, with Willard. Not particularly exciting. We know how good a man the popular actor can be, but for stage purposes he is much more pleasing as a villain. And Toole is back again in his own theatre?
Second Mem. So I have been told. If, as report has it, the visit is to say farewell, it will be a sad one. Take it all round, there is no better actor in the world than the hero of Ici on parle Français, and the embodiment of Pau Claudian.
First Mem. I quite agree with you. Has any one been to see India at Earl's Court?
Third Mem. I have. About as fine a spectacle as they make them. The Empress Theatre, worthy of its name—the entertainment appropriate to its surroundings. Quite eclipses Olympia in its most prosperous days. And if you want to see how a few scraps of waste land can be converted into a region of gardens, museums, theatres, and palaces, just mount the Great Wheel, and look down upon the scene below you.
[Enter the Waiter, when the chat about things theatrical is interrupted by orders for cooling and other drinks. Curtain.