_Miss L._ And no great loss either! I don't see anything particular about his songs myself. As for all that gas about his raising the tone of the halls, it's sickening. Anyone would suppose we _lowered_ it! _Miss Cissie Cinders (coming out of a dressing-cabin, in a battered old velvet hat and broken feathers, with her face smudged)._ Who's that you're talking about? WILDFIRE? Ah, my dear, this 'Igh Art and Littery rot'll be the ruin of the 'alls--him and his articles in the swell magazines, praising us all up--he can keep his praises to himself--_I_ don't want 'em! I've never set up to refine the public myself, or else I could fake it easy enough! [_She passes on to stage._ _Mr. Gus. Tadman_ (_Variety Vocalist_). We could all do it, come to that. But there, he won't last, you'll see. Why, look at the 'it I made with my "_Rorty Naughty Nell_"! That _was_ a good song if you like, and well-written, mind yer. But lor, it's clean forgotten now. I 'ear WILDFIRE'S bringing out a play to-night at the Hilarity, it'll serve him right if it gets the bird, going back on his own profession like that! (_To_ Miss CINDERS, _who has just sung_.) House cold to-night? _Miss Cinders_ (_in a temper_). Cold, it's like singing to a lot of 'ap'ny ices! I used to have the choruses all sung for me when I brought out that song first; and now they've let me go off without a 'and! We shall see whether they'll rise to WILDFIRE to-night. Ah, here he is. Actually coming up to speak to us; there's an honour! _Miss Betsy Beno_ (_to_ WILDFIRE, _as he passes the table where she is sitting waiting for her turn_). 'Ere, WATTY, old man, stop and 'ave a drop along of me. Do--there's plenty 'ere! (_as_ WILDFIRE _excuses himself laughingly_). Well, I'm sure--refusing to drink when a lady goes out of her way to ask him--he hasn't the manners of a pig! And I draw my sixty quid a week the same as he does! _Mr. Tadman._ Well, dear boy, how's the play getting on? Not a frost, I hope? _Wildfire._ No; I just looked in on my way from the Val. here, and they seemed to think it was all right; but I couldn't stay till the finish. They're going to send round and let me know. (_To the_ Small Boy, _who has approached anxiously_.) Oh, there you are, youngster! Yes, I shall want you--for the last time, you know. _The Boy._ Why, you--you ain't going to take the part away from me, Sir, when I created it, too! _Wildf._ (_patting his shoulder kindly_). I'm giving up singing altogether--that's why. Never mind; I'll see it makes no difference to you, so don't you distress yourself. We'll find you something or other to do. _The Boy_ (_with a gulp_). If I ain't going to be with _you_ any more, I--I don't care _what_ 'appens, Sir. I'd as soon throw up the perfession myself, I would! [_He turns away into a dark corner._