“Her dress is sufficient--though on it She only spends what is strictly required.” Eh, Mr. Wheedler? Then we work in a moral as well, you see, and avoid malediction, which can only mean bad language. _Mr. W._ (_doubtfully_). With all respect, I submit that it doesn’t scan quite so well---- _The Chairman_ (_sharply_). _I_ venture to think scansion may be sacrificed to propriety, _occasionally_, Mr. Wheedler--but pray go on. _Mr. W._ (_continuing_). “To a streamlet we rambled together. I carried her tenderly o’er. In my arms--she’s as light as a feather-- That sweetest of burdens I bore!” _First Censor._ I really _must_ protest. No properly conducted young woman would ever have permitted such a thing. You must alter that, Mr. Wheedler! _Second C._ And I don’t know--but I rather fancy there’s a “double-intender” in that word “light”--(_to colleague_)--it strikes me--eh?--what do _you_ think?---- _The Chairman_ (_in a conciliatory manner_). I am inclined to agree to some extent--not that I consider the words particularly objectionable in themselves, but we are men of the world, Mr. Wheedler, and as such we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that a Music-hall audience is only too apt to find significance in many apparently innocent expressions and phrases. _Mr. W._ But, Sir, I understood from your remarks recently that the Democracy were strongly opposed to anything in the nature of suggestiveness! _The Ch._ Exactly so; and therefore we cannot allow their susceptibilities to be shocked. (_With a severe jocosity._) Molly and you, Mr. Wheedler, must either ford the stream like ordinary persons, or stay where you are. _Mr. W._ (_depressed._) I may as well read the last verse, I suppose: “Then under the flickering willow I lay by the rivulet’s brink, With her lap for a sumptuous pillow----” _First Censor._ We can’t have that. It is really _not_ respectable. _The Ch._ (_pleasantly._) Can’t we alter it slightly? “I’d brought a small portable pillow.” No objection to _that_! [_The other Censors express dissent in undertones._ _Mr. W._ “Till I owned that I longed for a drink.” _Third C._ No, no! “A drink”! We all know what _that_ means--alcoholic stimulant of some kind. At all events that’s how the audience are certain to take it. _Mr. W._ (_feebly_). “So Molly her pretty hands hollowed Into curves like an exquisite cup, And draughts so delicious I swallowed, That rivulet nearly dried up!” _Third C._ Well, Mr. Wheedler, you’re not going to defend _that_, I hope? _Mr. W._ I’m not prepared to deny that it is silly--_very_ silly--but hardly--er--vulgar, I should have thought? _Third C._ That is a question of taste, which we won’t dispute. _I_ call it _distinctly_ vulgar. Why can’t he drink out of his _own_ hands?