_First Soldier_ (_to his Companion_). Lot o' work in _that_, yer know! _Second Soldier_. Yes. (_Thoughtfully_.) Not but what--(_becoming critical_)--if I'd been doin' it _myself_, I should ha' chose pins with smaller 'eds on 'em. _First S._ (_regarding this as presumptuous_). You may depend on it the man who made _that_ 'ad his reasons for choosing the pins he did--but there's no pleasing some parties! _Second S._ (_apologetically_). Well, I ain't denying the _Art_ in it, am I? _First Woman_. I _do_ call that 'andsome, SARAH. See, there's a star, and two 'arps, and a crownd, and I don't know what all--and all done in pins and beads! "Made by Bandsman BROWN," too! [Reading placard. _Second W._ Soldiers is that clever with their 'ands. Four pounds seems a deal to ask for it, though. _First W._ But look at the weeks it must ha' took him to do! (_Reading._) "Containing between ten and eleven thousand pins and beads, and a hundred and ninety-eight pieces of coloured cloth!" Why, the pins alone must ha' cost a deal of money. _Second W._ Yes, it 'ud be a pity for it to go to somebody as 'ud want to take 'em out. _First W._ It ought to be bought up by Gover'ment, that it ought--they're well able to afford it. A select party of Philistines, comprising a young Man, apparently in the Army, and his Mother and Sister, are examining Mr. GILBERT'S Jubilee Trophy in a spirit of puzzled antipathy. _The Mother_. Dear me, and _that_'s the Jubilee centrepiece, is it? What a heavy-looking thing. I wonder what _that_ cost? _Her Son_ (_gloomily_). Cost? Why, about two days' pay for every man in the Service! _His Mother_. Well, I call it a shame for the Army to be fleeced for _that_ thing. Are those creatures intended for mermaids, with their tails curled round that glass ball, I wonder? [She sniffs. _Her Daughter_. I expect it will be crystal, Mother. _Her Mother_. Very likely, my dear, but--glass or crystal--_I_ see no sense in it! _Daughter_. Oh, it's absurd, of course--still, this figure isn't badly done, is it supposed to represent St. GEORGE carrying the Dragon? Because they've made the Dragon no bigger than a salmon! _Mother_. Ah, well, I hope HER MAJESTY will be better pleased with it than I am, that's all. [After which they fall into ecstasies over an industrial exhibit, consisting of a drain-pipe, cunningly encrusted with fragments of regimental mess-china set in gilded cement. Before a large mechanical clock, representing a fortress, which is striking. Trumpets sound, detachments of wooden soldiers march in and out of gateways, and parade the battlements, clicking, for a considerable time. _A Spectator_ (_with a keen sense of the fitness of things_). What--all that for on'y 'alf-past five! OVERHEARD IN THE AMBULANCE DEPARTMENT.