"I have heard it," replied his visitor drily. "Most of the music played is composed by the conductor, who conducts with the bow of his violin. No, Sir, that is not enough to do for an audience in the intervals. I warn you that the whole question of intervals will come up soon, and the cleverest manager will be the one who does most to make them amusing. But that's another matter. My scheme for you is to provide more than mere amusement, it is to enable your theatre to partake of some of the quality and some of the success of the great picture newspapers." "How do you mean?" the manager asked, leaning forward. The word "success" galvanised him. "Like this," said the enthusiast. "You grant that the proper study of mankind is man--as the POPE recently said? You grant an intense curiosity as to everybody else being implanted in the human breast? Very well. This, then, is my scheme. You must have each stall legibly numbered so that the whole house behind it and above it can see the number. The boxes must be numbered too. You then instal a printer with a little press somewhere behind the scenes, and to him is brought soon after the curtain rises a list of the names of all the box and stall holders, which he will print off in time for the assistants to sell them all over the house after Act I. This distribution will dispose of the first interval, and incidentally bring in a nice little sum for cigars and champagne for your business visitors, a new hat for your leading lady, and so forth." "By the way," said the manager, "won't you smoke? These are mild." "Thank you," said the other. "Very well," he continued, "the next interval will be wholly spent in the exciting and delightful task of identifying the nobs, in which the nobs themselves will take a part. And if there is still a third interval it will be equally amusingly filled by conversation as to the pasts or costumes of the more famous of the female nobs who are present--an interchange of opinion as to the lowness of their necks, conjectures as to the genuineness of their hair, and so forth. Do you see?" The manager went to the sideboard and brought back some glasses and a bottle. "Yes," he said, "I see. There's something in what you say. But you don't explain how the names are to be obtained?" "How?" exclaimed the other. "Why, ask for them, to be sure. You'll have to begin with a few blanks, of course, but directly it gets known that you're publishing them during the evening they'll all come in. Bless your soul, I know them! and if the nobs don't tumble to it the snobs will, and they're numerically strong enough to keep any play running. You won't have to worry about the play. As for the back rows of the stalls, where you put the people from the other theatres, why, they'll absolutely push their visiting-cards at you. What do you say?" "I think it's ingenious," said the manager, "and not to be dismissed lightly. But I don't see anything to prevent all the other managers copying it."