“Yes, sir; Punch and Judy shows are getting scarce, what with yer cinematographs and pierrots and things. But there’s always customers for ’em and always will be. And it’s more than babies like ’em really. Many’s the time I’ve seen old gentlemen and fine ladies stop and watch when they think no one’s lookin’ at ’em, and the light comes into their eyes and the colour into their cheeks, and then they think that some one sees ’em and they creep away. It’s natural to like Punch; it’s the banging, knock-me-down kind of humour that’s the only genuine sort. And then the moral’s tip-top. He’s always up again, Punch is, never knows when he’s beat, and always smiling.” “Yes,” said Maradick, but he knew that he would have been one of those people who would have crept away. “And there’s another thing,” said the man; “the babies know right away that it’s the thing they want. It’s my belief that they’re told before they come here that there’s Punch waiting for them, otherwise they’d never come at all. If you gave ’em Punch right away there wouldn’t be any howling at all; a Punch in every nursery, I say. You’d be surprised, sir, to see the knowin’ looks the first time they see Punch, you’d think they’d seen it all their lives. There’s nothing new about it; some babies are quite _blasé_ over it.” “And then there are the nursemaids,” said Tony. “Yes,” said Punch, “they’re an easy-goin’ class, nursemaids. Give them a Punch and Judy or the military and there’s nothing they wouldn’t do for you. I’ve a pretty complete knowledge of nursemaids.” “I suppose you travel about?” said Maradick; “or do you stay more or less in one part of the country?” “Stay! Lord bless you, sir! I never stay anywhere; I’m up and down all the time. It’s easy enough to travel. The show packs up small, and then there’s just me and Toby. Winter time I’m in London a good bit. Christmas and a bit after. London loves Punch and always will. You’d think that these music-halls and pantomimes would knock it out, but not a bit of it. They’ve a real warm feeling for it in London. And they aren’t the sort of crowd who stand and watch it and laugh and smack their thighs, and then when the cap comes round start slipping off and pretendin’ they’ve business to get to, not a bit of it. They’d be ashamed not to pay their little bit.” “And then in the summer?” said Maradick. “Oh! Cumberland for a bit and then Yorkshire, and then down here in Cornwall. All round, you know. There are babies everywhere, and some are better than others. Now the Cumberland babies beat all the rest. Give me a Cumberland baby for a real laugh. They’re right enough down here, but they’re a bit on their dignity and afraid of doing the wrong thing. But I’ve got good and bad babies all over the place. I reckon I know more about babies than anyone in the land. And you see I always see them at their best—smiling and crowing—which is good for a man’s ’ealth.”