There were four more verses, in the main topical, and the play ran its way through the complete gamut of upheavals, matrimonial and domestic. It was impossible to tell who was allied to whom. It was a complete and utter socialism, and even the great Plato himself would have been satisfied with that community of wives. But it had to end; and, to carry the spirit of burlesque to its conclusion, we finished with a pantomime procession. The chorus came on, as choruses always do, in couples beating time with their heels. And in their hands they brandished banners on which were inscribed the names nearest to the northern heart, “Preston,” “Wigan,” “Johnnie Walker,” “Steve Bloomer.” Then the protagonists appeared, each with an appropriate tag, the lovers with a curtsey and a bow-- “And so through every kind of weather We two will always cling together.” The gay lady still naughtily impenitent-- “Although I haven’t chanced to find a feller, I crave your pity; pity poor Finella.” The evil genie of the piece, his brows wrinkled with gloom-- “You see my work I never shirk, For I’ve done all the dirty work.” And, last of all, Milton Hayes with a wand, a simper and a skirt-- “Without my aid where would poor Jack have been? So please reward the little fairy queen.” And after that was sung once again the opening chorus, and the curtain was rung down on the most enjoyable show of the P.O.W. Theatre, Mainz, which by a strange and lucky coincidence also happened to be the last. For within a day or two the armistice was signed, and the companies and committees were scattered. It remains now for Milton Hayes to give once more to London audiences the pleasure that he gave to us. But because sentiment lies so near to the human heart, I think his association with the “Buckshees” will recall to Milton Hayes more pleasant memories than those of his other and perhaps more universal successes. At a time when life was grey and tedious, he provided us with interest, with employment and amusement. We can only hope that he enjoyed himself as much as we did. CHAPTER XIII ARMISTICE DAYS § 1