_Mr. Gilbert_ (very politely): I am afraid I have not made myself understood. It is not counting-_house_, but _counting_-house. Do you understand me? _Mr. Snooks:_ Yes, sir. _Mr. Gilbert:_ Very well; try again, please. _Mr. Snooks:_ The King is in the counting-_house_. _Mr. Gilbert_ (still politely): Mr. Snooks, don't you appreciate the difference between the accent on "counting" and the accent on "house"? I want the accent on "counting"--_counting_-house. Surely you have never heard it pronounced in any other way? Try again, and _please_ pay attention. _Mr. Snooks_ (getting rather nervous): The King is in the counting-HOUSE! Mr. Gilbert twitches his right whisker, and takes a few paces up and down the front of the stage. Eventually he comes to a standstill, and calmly addresses Mr. Snooks: "It is my desire to assist you as far as I possibly can, but I _must_ have that sentence spoken properly. I would willingly cut it out altogether; but as it is essential to the story, that course is impossible. If you cannot speak it with the right accent, I shall be reluctantly compelled to give the words to someone else who _can_. Go back, please, and _think_ before you speak." _Mr. Snooks_ (endeavouring to think he is "thinking"): The King (pause) is (pause) IN the . . . (very long pause) _counting_ . . . (with a violent effort) HOUSE!!! _Mr. Gilbert_ (bottling up his fury): We won't bother about your scene now, Mr. Snooks. Get on with the next. Grossmith! Grossmith!! (To Seymour, the stage manager): Where's Mr. Grossmith? _Mr. Grossmith_ (a very small man, with a still smaller voice): Here I am. _Mr. Gilbert:_ Oh! there you are. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. We'll go on with your scene. Do you want to try your song? _Mr. Grossmith:_ Not unless you want to hear it! _Mr. Gilbert:_ No; I don't want to hear it. (Roars of laughter from the company.) Do you? _Mr. Grossmith:_ No! Good humour prevails, and the rehearsal proceeds. At its termination Mr. Gilbert approaches Mr. Snooks, who is absolutely wretched in the corner. _Mr. Gilbert_ (privately to Mr. Snooks): Don't worry yourself about that. Go home, and think it over. It will be all right to-morrow. On the morrow, perhaps, it is _not_ all right; but Mr. Gilbert will pass it over, and by dint of perseverance (which is, of course, appreciated), and the chaffing he gets from his fellow-choristers at the theatre, and the bullying from his wife at home, Mr. Snooks, in the course of a week, gets it actually right; but the word is always pronounced to the end with a certain amount of doubt. The performer frequently gets the credit which is due to Mr. Gilbert, and to him absolutely. As a rule, the little midshipmite in _H.M.S. Pinafore_ is supposed to be a perfect genius. There have been scores of midshipmites in town and "on tour," but they are all geniuses.