ROBERT.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  THE POINT OF VIEW.

Frenchman. “WELL, MON AMI, YOUR SIR EVELYN VOLSELEY SAY YOU CAN GO NOWHERES AND DO NOSING!  YOU ARE A SKVEEZED LEMON!”

Tommy Atkins. “WELL, HANG IT, YOU BLOOMING FURRINEERS HAVEN’T ALWAYS FOUND IT SO!”]

* * * * *

TELEPHONIC THEATRE-GOERS.

(A SKETCH AT THE ELECTRICAL EXHIBITION.)

SCENE—­The Exterior of the Telephone Music Room in the Egyptian Vestibule.  The time is about eight.  A placard announces, “Manchester Theatre now on”; inside the wickets a small crowd is waiting for the door to be opened.  A Cautious Man comes up to the turnstile with the air of a fox examining a trap.

The Cautious Man (to the Commissionnaire).  How long can I stay in for sixpence?

The Commissionnaire.  Ten Minutes, Sir.

The C.M. Only ten minutes, eh?  But, look here, how do I know there’ll be anything going on while I’m in there?

Comm. You’ll find out that from the instruments, Sir.

The C.M. Ah, I daresay—­but what I mean is, suppose there’s nothing to hear—­between the Acts and all that?

Comm. Comp’ny guarantees there’s a performance on while you’re in the room, Sir.

[Illustration:  “How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don’t you?”]

The C.M. Yes, but all these other people waiting to get in—­How’m I to know I shall get a place?

Comm. (outraged).  Look ’ere, Sir, we’re the National Telephone Comp’ny with a reputation to lose, and if you’ve any ideer we want to swindle you, all I can tell you is—­stop outside!

The C.M. (suddenly subdued).  Oh—­er—­all right, thought I’d make sure first, you know.  Sixpence, isn’t it?

    [He passes into the enclosure, and joins the crowd.

A Comic Man (in an undertone to his Fiancee).  That’s a careful bloke, that is.  Know the value o’ money, he does.  It’ll have to be a precious scientific sort o’ telephone that takes ’im in.  He’ll ’ave his six-pennorth, if it bursts the machine!  Hullo, they’re letting us in now.

    [The door is slightly opened from within, causing an
    expectant movement in crowd—­the door is closed again.

A Superior Young Lady (to her Admirer).  I just caught a glimpse of the people inside.  They were all sitting holding things like opera-glasses up to their ears—­they did look so ridiculous!

Her Admirer.  Well, it’s about time they gave us a chance of looking ridiculous, their ten minutes must be up now.  I’ve been trying to think what this put me in mind of. I know.  Waiting outside the Pit doors! doesn’t it you?