_Bobbie._ Ladies and Gentlemen, owing to sudden domestic calamity, the Bean has been unavoidably compelled to retire, and will be unable to appear till further notice. _Miss Smylie_ (_to_ Mr. OTIS BARLEYWATER, _who--in his own set--is considered "almost equal to_ CORNEY GRAIN"). I thought you were giving your entertainment in the library? Why _aren't_ you? _Mr. Otis Barleywater_ (_in a tone of injury_). Why? Because I can't give my imitations of ARTHUR ROBERTS and YVETTE GUILBERT with anything _like_ the requisite "go," unless I get a better audience than three programme-sellers, all under ten, and the cloak-room maid--_that's_ why! _Mrs. Allbutt-Innett_ (_as she leaves, fur the benefit of bystanders_). I must say, the house is _most_ disappointing--not at _all_ what I should expect a _Marquis_ to live in. Why, my _own_ reception-rooms are very nearly as large, and decorated in a much more modern style! _Bobbie Patterson_ (_to a_ "Doosid Good-natured Fellow, _who doesn't care what he does," and whom he has just discovered inside a case got up to represent an automatic sweetmeat machine_). Why, my dear old _chap!_ No idea it was _you_ inside that thing! Enjoying yourself in there, eh? _The Doosid Good-natured Fellow_ (_fluffily, from the interior_). Enjoying myself! With the beastly pennies droppin' down into my boots, and the kids howlin' because all the confounded chocolates have worked up between my shoulder-blades, and I can't shake 'em out of the slit in my arm? I'd like to see _you_ tryin' it! _The L. O. L._ (_to a stranger, who is approaching the_ Princess's _stall_). 'Ere, Mister, where are your manners? 'Ats off in the presence o' Royalty! [_She pokes him in the back with her umbrella: the stranger turns, smiles slightly, and passes on._ _A Well-informed Bystander._ You are evidently unaware, Madam, that the gentleman you have just addressed is His Serene Highness the Prince of POTSDAM! _The L. O. L._ (_aghast_). Her _'usban'!_ And me a jobbin' of 'im with my umberella! 'Ere, let me get out! [_She staggers out, in dead terror of being sent to the Tower on the spot._ * * * * * [Illustration: A POOR ADVERTISEMENT. _Tourist._ "I SUPPOSE YOU FEEL PROUD TO HAVE SUCH A DISTINGUISHED MAN STAYING IN YOUR HOUSE?" _Host of the "Drumdonnachie Arms."_ "'DEED NO! A BODY LIKE THAT DOES US MAIR HAIRM THAN GUID; HIS APPEARANCE IS NAE CREDIT TAE OOR COMMISSARIAT!"] * * * * * [Illustration: COMPENSATION. _He._ "THAT'S MRS. GRIMSHAW, WHO LECTURES ON BIMETALLISM. I'VE HEARD HER. HOW EXASPERATINGLY CLEVER SHE SEEMS TO BE!" _She._ "YES--BUT HOW CONSOLINGLY UGLY!"] * * * * * THE LEARNED WELSH GOAT. _Dame Ap-Asq-th loquitur_:--