_Miss J. J._ (_naïvely_). ’Ow much shall I ask for on this, Sir? What! Yer don’t mean to say they’re for _me_! Am I really to be a Page to one of England’s proud aristocra-cee? [_Does some steps._ _Mechanical change to_ SCENE II.--_State Apartment at the_ Duke’s. _Magnificent furniture, gilding, chandeliers. Suits of genuine old armour. Statuary (lent by British and Kensington Museums)._ _Enter_ Miss J., _with her face washed, and looking particularly plump in her Page’s livery. She wanders about stage_, _making any humorous comments that may occur to her on the armour and statuary. She might also play tricks on the Butler, and kiss the maids--all of which will serve to relieve the piece by delicate touches of comedy, and delight a discriminating audience._ _Enter the_ Duke. I hope, my lad, that we are making you comfortable here? [_Kindly._ _Miss J. J._ Never was in such slap-up quarters in my life, Sir, _I’ll_ stick to yer, no fear! [_In the course of conversation the_ Duke _learns with aristocratic surprise, that the_ Page’s _Mother was a Singer at the Music Halls_. _Miss J. J._ What, don’t know what a Music-’all’s like? and you a Dook! Well, you _are_ a jolly old juggins! ’Ere, you sit down on this gilded cheer--that’s the ticket--I’ll bring you your champagne and your cigars--want a light? (_Strikes match on her pantaloons._) Now you’re all comfortable. _The_ Duke _sits down, smiling indulgently, out of her way, while she introduces her popular Vocal Character Sketch, of which space only permits us to give a few specimen verses_. First the Champion Comic Steps upon the stage; With his latest “Grand Success.” Sure to be the rage! Sixty pounds a week he Easily can earn; Round the Music Halls he goes, And does at each a “turn.” _Illustration._ Undah the stors in a sweet shady dairl, I strolled with me awm round a deah little gairl, And whethaw I kissed har yaw’d like me to tairl-- Well, I’d rawthah you didn’t inquiah! All golden her hair is, She’s Queen of the Fairies, And known by the name of the lovely Mariah, She’s a regular Venus, But what passed between us, I’d very much rawthah you didn’t inquiah! Next the Lady Serio, Mincing as she walks; If a note’s too high for her, She doesn’t sing--she talks, What she thinks about the men You’re pretty sure to learn, She always has a hit at them, Before she’s done her “turn!” _Illustration._ You notty young men, ow! you notty young men! You tell us you’re toffs, and the real Upper Ten, But behind all your ears is the mark of a pen! So don’t you deceive us, you notty young men!