The general good being the one standard by which to judge any collective innovation, the enterprise of the “Shivers” must be considered the greatest benefit the camp received. Competition roused the ambition of the “Pows.” Each party swore to outdo the other. There ensued a race of progressive excellence. Each performance was produced with a more lavish outlay of the public funds; each time the curtain rose a deeper gasp paid homage to scenic artists; and the composers ceased to rely for their material on the work of other men. They began to write their own songs and their own music; the old ragtime and coon melodies disappeared, and instead we had original airs and topical numbers. And here the “Pows” had a great advantage, for their musical director, who in these pages shelters himself beneath the pseudonym of Aubrey Dowdon, had a gift for libretto that we soon expect to see on the playbills of the Alhambra, and his company finally beat all records with a musical operetta entitled _The Girl on the Stairs_. All the songs were original, and it was marvellously staged. There were eastern grottos, and the gleam of white shoulders through the dusk. There was a long serenade to the Jehlum River girl, in which brown tanned slaves prostrated themselves before the half-naked form of a sylph arrayed in veils. There were humour and naughtiness, horseplay and burlesque. It was a triumph of impromptu and ingenuity, after which the activities of the “Shivers” fell woefully flat. From the psychological standpoint the professional jealousy of those weeks of hectic rivalry provided food for much deliberation. The rivalry once definitely acknowledged, the camp did its best to foment contention. The manager of the “Shivers” would be told that, unless he was careful, he would be absolutely washed out by the “Pows,” and the same story was carried to Dowdon. There were few things more amusing than to sit behind either party during a rival performance. They would simulate great enthusiasm, but all the time they would be exchanging shy and nervous glances. There would be whispers of-- “Do you think it’s good?” “Rather cheap that, isn’t it?” “What a chestnut!” And if the piece did make a hit, what colossal “wind-up,” what profound trepidation! And with what eager haste was the next show rehearsed. From the point of view of the public, this was entirely excellent. We got excellent shows, for there is no goad like jealousy.