_Charles his Friend._ Quite so. After all, a paradox is merely a platitude. _A Caller._ But do great men do these things? _Charles his Friend._ The great do all things because they are little. _A Lady._ Surely a wife should look up to her husband? _Charles his Friend._ So she does--unless she wears high heels. _A Person._ And a wife, if she found her husband in trouble, would surely cleave to him? _Charles his Friend._ So she would, if she only knew where to find him. _Another Person._ That reminds me that a play, to be successful, must have the plot of a shilling shocker--much diluted. _Charles his Friend._ A shocker shocks no one save its--publisher. _A New Comer._ Then the blackmailer was defeated in the end--as bad people invariably are when vice is at a discount and virtue at a premium. _Charles his Friend._ Virtue never is at a premium, save when it is mistaken for vice. _A blasé Man of the World._ And yet, in spite of all this, I have had a pleasant evening. _Charles his Friend._ So has an author when he is laughing in his sleeve and confuses black with white. _Someone._ But does the author never know the difference? _Charles his Friend._ What does it matter? If he thinks himself right, everybody will know that he is wrong! _The Audience._ All this is very clever because it is unintelligible. _The Author._ So I believe. Only I stand upon my irresponsibility. But is anyone satisfied with anything in a playhouse? _Charles his Friend._ Only with the fall of the curtain! [_Scene closes in upon nothing in particular._ * * * * * [Illustration: INDUCTION. "IS THIS THE _NEW_ BABY, DADDY?"--"YES, DEAR." "WHY, HE'S GOT NO TEETH!"--"NO, DEAR." "AND HE'S GOT NO HAIR!"--"NO, DEAR." "OH, DADDY, IT _MUST_ BE AN _OLD_ BABY!"] * * * * * THE REAL NEW WOMAN. I own there are heights that she cannot attain. She is not at home with a gun. In pastimes where one living creature is slain She cannot perceive any fun; And never a poor feathered songster has died Her hat or her bonnet to grace; And after the hounds it were torture to ride, Lest Reynard should lose in the race. And much she ignores that New Women should learn, And still she refuses to smoke: One wine from another she cannot discern, But she's splendid at seeing a joke. Her love and her friendship no labour can fret, No jealousy seems to alarm. In truth, not a mortal could ever forget Her humour, her kindness, her charm. Though dozens of friends of her fealty boast, Her desk with epistles is packed, Her very own relatives love her the most-- A somewhat remarkable fact! With bores and with fools she ungrudgingly bears, And though it may end in her loss, With cabmen she never can wrangle for fares, Or haggle a counter across.