In spite of all you can do in the way of avoiding soililoquies and getting your characters on and off the stage in a dramatic manner, a time will come when you realize sadly that your play is not a bit like life after all. Then is the time to introduce a meal on the stage. A stage meal is popular, because it proves to the audience that the actors, even when called Charles Hawtrey or Owen Nares, are real people just like you and me. "Look at Mr. Bourchier eating," we say excitedly to each other in the pit, having had a vague idea up till then that an actor lived like a god on praise and greasepaint and his photograph in the papers. "Another cup, won't you?" says Miss Gladys Cooper; "No, thank you," says Mr. Dennis Eadie--dash it, it's exactly what we do at home ourselves. And when, to clinch matters, the dramatist makes Mr. Gerald du Maurier light a real cigarette in the Third Act, then he can flatter himself that he has indeed achieved the ambition of every stage writer, and "brought the actual scent of the hay across the footlights." But there is a technique to be acquired in this matter as in everything else within the theatre. The great art of the stage-craftsman, as I have already shown, is to seem natural rather than to be natural. Let your actors have tea by all means, but see that it is a properly histrionic tea. This is how it should go:-- _Hostess_. How do you do? You'll have some tea, won't you? _[Rings bell]_. _Guest_. Thank you. _Enter_ Butler. _Hostess_. Tea, please, Matthews. _Butler (impassively)_. Yes, m'lady. _(This is all he says during the play, so he must try and get a little character into it, in order that_ "The Era" _may remark, "Mr. Thompson was excellent as_ Matthews." _However, his part is not over yet, for he returns immediately, followed by three footmen--just as it happened when you last called on the_ Duchess--_and sets out the tea.)_ _Hostess (holding up the property lump of sugar in the tongs)_. Sugar? _Guest (luckily)_. No, thanks. _Hostess replaces lump and inclines empty teapot over tray for a moment; then hands him a cup painted brown inside--thus deceiving the gentleman with the telescope in the upper circle_. _Guest (touching his lips with the cup and then returning it to its saucer)_. Well, I must be going. _Re-enter_ Butler _and three_ Footmen, _who remove the tea-things_. _Hostess (to_ Guest). Good-bye; so glad you could come. [_Exit_ Guest.] His visit has been short, but it has been very thrilling while it lasted.