"Why," replies "her little man," "I said that I thought that if, that is, should I--should the dean die--that is, I said I thought----" As he went on stammering and floundering, he saw that his wife's eye was fixed sternly on him. And these, with the stage directions, are the _Right Rev. Dr. Cloys_ and _Mrs. Cloys_ of "St. Olpherts," and not of "Barchester"--that's all. And this _Mrs. Proudie-Cloys_ serves as a _Dea ex machinâ_ coming forward to offer temporary relief to the hard, austere husband _Mr. Fraser_ (also a good performance by Mr. J. G. GRAHAME), from his very trying wife. The Bishop is, oddly enough, a mere "lay" figure; and is "left till called for" at the last moment. Having already said that the acting all round is of first-class quality, it will be superfluous to single out Mr. LEONARD BOYNE for special praise. Yet he deserves it. Had the author given this character an Irish title, the combination would have been perfect. Mr. CYRIL MAUDE, as the fussy, empty-headed M.P., adds another finished picture to his eccentric portraitures; but Mr. PINERO might have refrained from adding to this personage's eccentricities one which originated with Mr. CHARLES WYNDHAM'S _Headless Man_, whose system of _memoria technica_, and recalling things by initial letters, Mr. PINERO seems to have borrowed, in order to complete _Sir Fletcher Portwood's_ equipment for the stage. It is as well to note this, lest by unconscious cerebration Mr. PINERO should, in some future piece, develope _Sir Fletcher_ into another _Mr. Hedley_, and refer to _Sir Fletcher_ in this piece as his original. [Illustration: "Bedad then, 'tis Misther Shawn Allingham!"] The only pleasant scene is where, in the Second Act, two club "pals," _Denzil Shafto_ (Mr. J. W. PIGOTT) and _Peter Elphick_ (Mr. STUART CHAMPION) appear, the latter with a banjo; both coming to cheer up their unhappy friend _Misther Allingham_. These two lighten up the gloom of the Second Act for a brief space, and then are heard no more; yet the scene in which they strut their short ten minutes on the stage is one of the best imagined, and best stage-managed as regards "business," in a piece where every detail has been considered and not a point lost. For acting, for dialogue, for character (granting these to be what the author of their being has made them), this unpleasant play ranks with the best of the dramas from, what _Mrs. Malaprop_ might term, "The Pinerian spring." And the end? Nothing; a blank. The audience look at one another and say, "Well--and then?... What next?" It is a highly-finished play without a finish. It belongs to the new order of dramas classified under the heading of the "The Problem Play." Whether these will pay, or not, is another problem of which the author and manager may find a satisfactory solution. * * * * * A Toiler to a Twitterer.