[Winds up machine, which breaks into a merry marriage peal as JACK enters in evening dress.

Jack (sullenly).  Now just look here, VIOLA—­(recognising Mrs. M.) Hullo, the Mum!

Mrs. M. (raising her voice above the clamour).  Mum no longer, Sir.  Do you hear those bells?

Jack. Do I hear those bells? Am I deaf?  The whole Parish can hear them, I should think!

Mrs. M. I don’t care if they do.  I want to touch your conscience, if I can, and I still hope—­bad as you are—­that when the voices of those bells—­so long silent—­rung in anticipation of such a very different future—­fall upon your ear once more, they may—­

Jack (with a sardonic laugh).  “So long silent!” I like that.  Sorry to disappoint you, my dear Mamma, but that phonograph, as a domestic stimulant, was played out long ago—­it has played me out often enough!  Perhaps you don’t know it, but really VIOLA has rather overdone it.  Whenever we have a tiff, she sets the “Voice from Eden” at me; if she chooses to consider herself ill-used, I am treated to a preserved echo of our marriage vows, and the Bishop’s address; when she is in the sulks, I get the congratulations in the vestry; and if ever I grumble at the weekly bills, it’s drowned in the “Wedding March!” As for your precious bells, I can’t dine with a man at the Club without hearing the confounded things pealing out the moment I let myself in.  That infernal phonograph, which you seem to fondly imagine will make me burst into tears, and live happy ever after, has driven me out of the house many a time when I was willing enough to stay at home; but to be put through one’s wedding ceremony three times a week is enough to send any fellow to the Club, or out of his mind.  I’d smash the d——­d thing with pleasure, only it seems to afford VI some consolation.  I can’t say I find it soothing myself.

[Before Mr. MANDOLINE can think of a suitable reply, Mrs. R. enters from the inner room, where she has remained till now.  She is carrying a small steel poker, which she silently places in the hand of her astonished husband.

Jack. Hullo! you here?  What’s this for?

[Staring blankly at the poker.

Mrs. R. (meekly).  To—­to smash the d——­d thing with.

[The marriage peal ceases abruptly, as Mrs. MANDOLINE, comparatively reassured, discreetly leaves the couple to come to a better understanding without further assistance.

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING OFFICE.

The Gentlewoman, No. 1, has appeared.  It gives, or rather sells, an overwhelming lot for the money, which is sixpence.  Sixpenn’orth of all sorts.  Plenty of readable information.  Illustrations not the best feature in it.  Crowds of advertisements.  The menus, if carefully sustained, may prove very useful to those who “dinna ken.”  As to the type of The Gentlewoman, well, the first picture is of Her Imperial Majesty the QUEEN, and with this type of the Gentlewoman we shall all be satisfied, dicit BARONIUS DE BOOK-WORMS.