Miss Darragh was, as required, the vindictive widow to the life (this kind of life, you understand), and Miss Hilda Bayley played very charmingly the little wilful fiancée who—but no, I must keep my promise.
With much less evidence than the applause and generally keyed-up attitude of the Savoy audience afforded me, I could risk a psychic communication in the authentic manner of a Beverley séance. "All is dark.... It is getting light.... I see a man.... He leans eagerly to a telephone.... He thrusts something into envelopes. He goes on thrusting things into envelopes. The telephone keeps ringing.... It is.... Can it be? Yes, it is a Box Office." An institution which at the Savoy should be busy for many months to come.
T.
A Misnomer.
"In memory of the name of the late Dr. F. C. Batchelor it is proposed that the name of the Forth Street Maternity Hospital (Dunedin) be altered to that of the Batchelor Hospital."—Southland Times (N.Z.)
Mother. "Did you remember to pray for everybody, dear?"