[Illustration: "How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don't you?"] _The C.M._ Yes, but all these other people waiting to get in--How'm I to know I shall get a _place_? _Comm._ (_outraged_). Look 'ere, Sir, we're the National Telephone Comp'ny with a reputation to lose, and if you've any ideer we want to swindle you, all I can tell _you_ is--stop outside! _The C.M._ (_suddenly subdued_). Oh--er--all right, thought I'd make sure _first_, you know. Sixpence, isn't it? [_He passes into the enclosure, and joins the crowd._ _A Comic Man_ (_in an undertone to his Fiancée_). That's a careful bloke, that is. Know the _value_ o' money, _he_ does. It'll have to be a precious scientific sort o' telephone that takes _'im_ in. He'll 'ave _his_ six-pennorth, if it bursts the machine! Hullo, they're letting us in now. [_The door is slightly opened from within, causing an expectant movement in crowd--the door is closed again._ _A Superior Young Lady_ (_to her Admirer_). I just caught a glimpse of the people inside. They were all sitting holding things like opera-glasses up to their ears--they did look so ridiculous! _Her Admirer_. Well, it's about time they gave _us_ a chance of looking ridiculous, their ten minutes must be up now. I've been trying to think what this put me in mind of. _I_ know. Waiting outside the Pit doors! doesn't it you? _The Sup. Y.L._ (_languidly, for the benefit of the bystanders_). Do they make you wait like this for the Pit? _Her Admirer_. _Do they make you wait!_ Why, weren't you and I three-quarters of an hour getting into the Adelphi the other evening? _The Sup. Y.L._ (_annoyed with him_). I don't see any necessity to bawl it out like that if we _were_. [_The discreetly curtained windows are thrown back, revealing persons inside reluctantly tearing themselves away from their telephones. As the door opens, there is a frantic rush to get places._ _An Attendant_ (_soothingly_). Don't crush, Ladies and Gentlemen--plenty of room for all. Take your time! [_The crowd stream in, and pounce eagerly on chairs and telephones; the usual Fussy Family waste precious minutes in trying to get seats together, and get separated in the end. Undecided persons flit from one side to another. Gradually they all settle down, and stop their ears with the telephone-tubes, the prevailing expression being one of anxiety, combined with conscious and apologetic imbecility. Nervous people catch the eye of complete strangers across the table, and are seized with suppressed giggles. An Irritable Person finds himself between the Comic Man and a Chatty Old Gentleman.