Really, you children ought to know that that is a mere fable. Babies are born quite naturally, and in a way which is perfectly familiar to science. They have moved to another flat now. Who have? That engineer and his wife of whom I was speaking. They found their old quarters too damp and cold. They made many complaints to the landlord, but he took no notice of them. In my opinion a small, but warm, flat is preferable to a large, but cold, one. A cold flat can so easily give one one's death of influenza or rheumatism! I know some people who are living in a _terribly_ cold flat. And I too. What a number of cold flats there seem to be nowadays! Do you know, I have often wanted to hear of a good method for removing grease stains from light materials. Woollen materials? No, silken. Very well, then. Take a piece of clean glass, and rub the stains with it. Then, after plenty of friction, iron with a hot iron. Really? How simple! But I was told that turpentine is best? May we smoke now? Somehow I never felt a desire to smoke while we were waiting for the birth of that baby. We never had a chance to do so. How absurd! Of course one would not want to smoke at a _funeral_, but on such an occasion as this we really---- Smoking is a most pernicious habit. Both of you are young men, and ought to guard your health. There are so many occasions in after-life when health is everything. But tobacco gives one a stimulus? Believe me, it is a very unhealthy stimulus. I too used to smoke when I was young and foolish. Mamma, how the baby cries! How it does cry! Does it want milk? [_The young people burst into renewed laughter, while the Elderly Lady regards them with a stern air of reproval._] CURTAIN. ACT II--LOVE AND POVERTY [_The stage is in clear light, while the scene represents a large, lofty room with bare walls of a bright pink colour that is intersected, in places, with grey tracery fantastically designed. To the right are two curtainless casement windows through which the outer night shows darkly, while the furniture consists of a couple of bedsteads, two chairs, and a rough deal table, on the latter of which stands a broken water-jug, holding a bunch of wild flowers. In one corner (which is in deeper shadow than the rest of the apartment) stands the Being in Grey. The candle in his hand is burnt away for a third of its length, yet its flame remains steady, bright, and tall, and throws the statuesque face of the Being into strong relief._] [_Enter a group of Neighbours, dressed in holiday attire, and carrying in their hands flowers, wild grasses, and sprigs of oak and birch. They disperse themselves about the room, looking cheerful, kindly, simple, and solicitous as they do so._] ~Dialogue of the Neighbours.~~ How poor they must be! See, they have not even a spare chair. Nor curtains to the windows! Nor pictures on the walls! Nor a morsel in their larder except some stale bread!