"Mr. Linton," said Kiss to Mr. Lethbridge, in explanation, "_is_ a dramatic author, and has written plays." Mr. Linton sighed, and fidgeted with his fingers. "Has he?" exclaimed Mr. Lethbridge. "And they have been played, of course?" Mr. Linton sighed again, and inclined his head. "I am really delighted," said Mr. Lethbridge. "I have never in my life spoken to a dramatic author, and have never shaken hands with one. Will you allow me?" They shook hands again, Mr. Lethbridge effusively, Mr. Linton with mingled bashfulness, pride, and awkwardness. "Successful pieces, I am sure," observed Mr. Lethbridge. "More or less so," said Kiss. "We must take our rubs, my dear Leth." "Of course, of course. We've got to take them." "That's what I'm always telling Linton. We've got to take 'em. Why, you, now," pointing his finger at Mr. Lethbridge, "you're not a public man, and you have your rubs." "I am not free from them," said Mr. Lethbridge, in a cheerful voice. "There, now, Linton," said Kiss, with the manner of one who desired to point a moral, "our friend Lethbridge here is not a public man, and _he_ has rubs. So you don't think his piece would be a success? Why, Sempronius?" "An author must follow the fashion," replied Mr. Linton, "if he wants to live." "He wants that, naturally." And here Kiss took Mr. Lethbridge aside, with, "Excuse me, Linton, a moment," and whispered, confidentially, "A little dashed. Had a knock-down blow. Last piece a failure. Produced a fort-night ago. Ran a week. I was in it, but could not save it. Consequence, out of an engagement; not serious to me, but to him--very. A man of genius; but not yet hit 'em quite. Will soon, or I'm the worst of actors. Which I am not--nor the best; but 'twill serve. Meanwhile, waiting for the spondulix to pour in, has wife and family to support. A modern Triplet. Has play which will take the town by storm. The play that failed was of a domestic turn. Very pretty; but lacked incident. Too much dialogue, too little action. He feels it--badly. Here," touching his heart, "and here," touching his stomach. They returned to Mr. Linton. "Proceed, Linton." "The public," said Mr. Linton. "require red fire. Give it them. They want murders. Supply them. They want the penny-dreadful on the stage. Fling it at their heads. Ah! I've not been as wise as some I know."