_Colonel Clumk_. There's a man in my old regiment who's got two red-haired brats; but he wants ten shillings a night for 'em. _Boldero._ That's pretty stiff. However, I'll inspect them to-morrow. Let's get on a bit now. Come, SPINKS! _Spinks._ Where were we? (_With an air of intense annoyance._) These constant interruptions put one off so. Oh, yes, I remember. (_Resumes rehearsing the part of_ "Colonel DEBENHAM.") "Nursemaid, take those squalling infants away. I'm surprised at Lady SHORTHORN permitting them in the drawing-room. Wheel them away at once--at once, I say; or I'll make curry-powder of the lot of you!" _Miss Dorothy Shuttle_ (_as_ "BELINDA"). "Well, I'm sure; I never was so spoken to afore. (_To her imaginary children._) Did the horrid man scold them, then, pretty dears? (_To_ DEBENHAM.) You a Colonel? You ain't fit to be a General in the Salvation Army. Imperence!" [_Exit, wheeling an imaginary perambulator._ _Boldero_ (_enthusiastically_). Excellent! That couldn't have been done better. When we get the perambulator and the babies, it's bound to go. (Miss DOROTHY SHUTTLE _is much pleased, and foresees several stalls being taken on the occasion of her next benefit._) Now, then (_to_ SPINKS, _who thinks it a mistake that a Stage Manager should stop to praise anybody, with one exception, of course, at rehearsal_), SPINKS, hurry up a bit, hurry up! _Spinks._ My dear BOLDERO, I'm perfectly ready to begin as soon as ever the talking stops. I know my cues, I fancy; but it's quite hopeless to get on if _everybody_ wants to talk at the same moment. (_Resumes his part as_ "Colonel DEBENHAM," _shaking his fist at the departing_ BELINDA.) "Impertinent minx! (_Turns furiously on_ GUSHBY, _who is on the stage in the character of_ TILBURY, _the comic Squire._) And you, Sir, what in the name of fifty thousand jackasses, do you mean by standing there grinning from ear to ear like a buck nigger? But I'll not stand it any longer, Sir, not for a moment. D'ye hear, you miserable turnip-faced bumpkin, d'ye hear?" (_Carried away by histrionic enthusiasm_, SPINKS _brings his fist down violently on the precise spot where a table ought to be, but is not, standing. As a natural result, he hits himself with much force on his leg. The others laugh, and the Ladies turn away giggling, feeling that they ought to be sympathetic. The unfortunate_ SPINKS _hurts himself considerably, and is furious. Coming, as it were, right out of the part, and being temporarily himself again, only in a rage, he addresses the Stage Manager._) Upon my soul, BOLDERO, this is perfectly infamous. How often have I begged you to get that table placed there _at all costs_, and time after time you forget it. I know what it is; you want to make me ridiculous. But you'll be d---- (_suddenly remembers that ladies are present, and substitutes a milder expletive_)--confoundedly sorry for yourself when you find I'm too lame to act, and the whole of your precious piece will be ruined.