[_He takes up a back number of "Punch," and reads the advertisements with deep interest. Meanwhile, the Loquacious Assistant has bowed out the Sympathetic Customer, and touched a bell. A Saturnine Assistant appears, still masticating bread-and-butter. The Second Customer removes his hat, revealing a denuded crown, and thereby causing surprise and a distinct increase of complacency in the Grizzled Gentleman, who submits himself to the Loquacious Assistant. The Bald Customer sinks resignedly into the chair indicated by the Saturnine Operator, feeling apologetic and conscious that he is not affording a fair scope for that gentleman's professional talent. The other Assistant appears to take a reflected pride in his subject._ _The Loq. Ass._ (_to the Grizzled Customer_). Remarkable how some parties _do_ keep their 'air, Sir! Now yours--(_with a disparaging glance at the Bald Customer's image in the mirror_)--yours grows quite remarkable strong. Do you _use_ anythink for it now? _The Gr. C._ Not I. Leave that to those who are not so well protected! _The Loq. Ass._ I was on'y wondering if you'd been applying our Rosicrucian Stimulant, Sir, that's all. There's the gentleman next door to here--a chemist, he is--and if you'll believe me, he was gettin' as bald as a robin, and he'd only tried it a fortnight when his 'ed come out all over brustles! _The Gr. C._ Brussels, what? _Sprouts_, eh? _The Loq. Ass._ Hee-hee! no, Sir, brustles like on a brush. But you can afford to 'ave _your_ laugh, Sir! _The Sat. Ass._ (_to the Bald Customer, with withering deference_). Much off, Sir? _The B.C._ (_weakly thinking to propitiate by making light of his infirmity_). Well, there isn't much _on_, is there? _The S.A._ (_taking a mean advantage_). Well, Sir, it wouldn't be a very long job numberin' all the 'airs on _your_ 'ed, cert'nly! (_Severely, as one reproaching him for carelessness_.) You _'ave_ been losin' your 'air! Puts me in mind of what the poet says in _'Amlet_. "Oh, what a fallin' off!" if you'll excuse _me_, Sir! _The B.C._ (_with a sensitive squirm_). Oh, don't apologise--I'm _used_ to it, you know! _The S.A._ Ah, Sir, they do say the wind's tempered to the shorn lamb so as he can't see 'imself as other's see 'im. But what _you_ ought to 'ave is a little toopy. Make 'em so as you couldn't tell it from natural 'air nowadays! [_The Bald Customer feebly declines this meretricious adornment._ _The Loq. Ass._ (_to his subject_). Know Mr. PARIS PATTERTON of the Proscenium Theatre, Sir? 'E's 'ad to call in our Guv'nor, Sir. 'Is 'air's comin, off, Sir, dreadful, Sir. The Guv'nor's been tryin' a noo wash on his 'ed. _The Gr. C._ Ha, poor beggar! Wash doing it any good? _The Loq. Ass._ (_demurely_). That I can't tell you, Sir; but it 'as a very agreeable perfùme. _The S.A._ I think I've taken off about as much as you can _spare_, Sir!