[_In pursuance of which virtuous resolve, she talks about nothing else for the remainder of the day, until the unfortunate_ MARIA _wishes fervently that balloons had never been invented_. IN THE BUILDING. _An admiring group has collected before an enormous pin-cushion in the form of a fat star, and about the size of a Church-hassock._ FIRST SOLDIER (_to his Companion_). Lot 'o work in _that_, yer know! _Second Soldier._ Yes. (_Thoughtfully._) Not but what--(_becoming critical_)--if I'd been doin' it _myself_, I should ha' chose pins with smaller 'eds on 'em. FIRST S. (_regarding this as presumptuous_). You may depend on it the man who made _that_ 'ad his reasons for choosing the pins he did--but there's no pleasing some parties! SECOND S. (_apologetically_). Well, I ain't denying the _Art_ in it, am I? FIRST WOMAN. I _do_ call that 'andsome, Sarah. See, there's a star, and two 'arps, and a crownd, and I don't know what all--and all done in pins and beads! "Made by Bandsman Brown," too! [_Reading placard._ SECOND W. Soldiers is that clever with their 'ands. Four pounds seems a deal to ask for it, though. FIRST W. But look at the weeks it must ha' took him to do! (_Reading._) "Containing between ten and eleven thousand pins and beads, and a hundred and ninety-eight pieces of coloured cloth!" Why, the pins alone must ha' cost a deal of money. SECOND W. Yes, it 'ud be a pity for it to go to somebody as 'ud want to take 'em out. FIRST W. It ought to be bought up by Gover'ment, that it ought--they're well able to afford it. _A select party of Philistines, comprising a young Man, apparently in the Army, and his_ MOTHER _and_ SISTER, _are examining Mr. Gilbert's Jubilee Trophy in a spirit of puzzled antipathy_. THE MOTHER. Dear me, and _that's_ the Jubilee centrepiece, is it? What a heavy-looking thing. I wonder what _that_ cost? HER SON (_gloomily_). Cost? Why, about two days' pay for every man in the Service! HIS MOTHER. Well, I call it a shame for the Army to be fleeced for _that_ thing. Are those creatures intended for mermaids, with their tails curled round that glass ball, I wonder? [_She sniffs._ HER DAUGHTER. I expect it will be crystal, Mother. HER MOTHER. Very likely, my dear, but--glass or crystal--_I_ see no sense in it! DAUGHTER. Oh, it's absurd, of course--still, this figure isn't badly done. Is it supposed to represent St. George carrying the Dragon? Because they've made the Dragon no bigger than a salmon! MOTHER. Ah, well, I hope Her Majesty will be better pleased with it than I am, that's all. [_After which they fall into ecstasies over an industrial exhibit consisting of a drain-pipe, cunningly encrusted with fragments of regimental mess-china set in gilded cement._