"Yes, my dears," continued the lady, "and I don't get no Pantomimes now, been 'ard up, I 'ave, for a long time, can't even get chorus now; but bless your 'earts! coming along to-night, when I gets to Trafalgar Square, I somehow could 'ave declared I saw that there Lion a-laughing at me, and then when I sees the wreath, blessed if I didn't want to dance once again all of a sudden. Look 'ere, old sport, you used to have plenty of the shinies in the old days, you used to chuck the 'oof about a bit; I remember you was a-looking for some bloke who wrote--that you had an idea in your 'ead all us girls wanted to marry." The distressed Lord Mayor fumbled in his pockets and produced two sovereigns. "Thank you, ole dear," observed the lady, as she pocketed the gold with alacrity, "you was always one of the best; and Cissie Laurie, that's me, you know--Cissie--who used to play Alice, will always swear you are a tip-top clipper. Lor! when I sees you in them robes, and you ain't told me yet why you've got 'em on---- "An inadvertency," stuttered the Lord Mayor; "most unfortunate." "Well, when I sees you in them robes it puts me in mind of the dear old Pantomime, when little Alice flings herself at the Lord Mayor's feet," and here, overcome with past recollections of the drama, the fat lady sunk upon her knees, and dramatically clasping the robes of Sir Simon, to that worthy old gentleman's utter confusion and consternation, at the same time gave forth aloud the doggerel lines that had once accompanied the incident in the play-- "Oh! Dad, I'm your Alice, in whom you're disappointed, And here is Dick Whittington, whose nose was out-of-jointed, Though your heart be as cold as an icicle king's, Forgive us and say we are nice 'ikkle things." "Oh, hush! hush! dreadful," implored the Lord Mayor, endeavouring in vain to extricate himself from the dramatic lady's clutches. At this moment a gruff judicial voice, which sent an immediate thrill down the worthy Lord Mayor's back, broke in upon the scene. "Now, then, what's all this? Move on, there!" A dark blue policeman stood in the pale blue moonlight. The Lord Mayor only shivered. The dramatic lady was equal to the occasion. "Aren't we a picture?" she asked coquettishly. "Get up, then," commanded the policeman dryly, "and be a movin' one." "All right, don't get huffy, dear, we're professionals." "So I should think," observed the policeman shortly. The Writer thought this a most propitious moment to seize the Lord Mayor by the arm, and hurry him in the direction of his own rooms, across the almost deserted centre of the Square, without waiting for any further conversation of any description. The policeman stared after them suspiciously as they moved away. "What's he doing in them things?" inquired the policeman of the lady. "Lor', 'ow should I know? I guess he's a good sort, though, he gave me some money."