And drinks your health, Miss P. G. Fawcett!
TAKEN FROM THE FRENCH PLAYS.
Scene—Her Majesty's Theatre. Enter Mr. and Mrs. Brown.
Brown (to Boxkeeper, with the air of a Sovereign conferring an Order upon a faithful subject). There's sixpence for a programme.
Boxkeeper. Very sorry, Sir, but it isn't a programme; it's a Book of the Argument, and we have to pay that for it ourselves!
Brown (resenting the information). Oh, bother! Then I'll do without it.
Mrs. Brown (annoyed). Why didn't you get a book? You know we'll never understand it without one.
Brown. Nonsense, my dear! It's a distinct advantage to trust to one's own resources.
[Curtain goes up, and discovers a number of male characters, who come on and go off severally.