Lady Bountiful (to old Parishioner). “I hope you like our New Clergyman’s Sermons, Mrs. Brown?”

Mrs. Brown: “Oh yes, my Lady, he do Preach quite beautiful; but then, you see, he don’t Practise. So when my poor old Man be troubled with the Rheumatics, I have to send for the Doctor in the Village, and it do come so very expensive!”

Kitty (reading a fairy tale). “‘Once upon a time there was a frog——’”

Mabel (interrupting). “I bet it’s a Princess! Go on!”

Lucullus Brown (on hospitable purpose intent). “Are you Dining anywhere to-morrow night?”

Jones (not liking to absolutely “give himself away”). “Let me see”—(considers)—“No; I’m not Dining anywhere to-morrow.”

Lucullus Brown (seeing through the artifice). “Um! Poor chap! How Hungry you will be!”

[“Exeunt,—severally.”

First ’Arry: “Hay, wot’s this ’ere Rosebery a torkin’ abaat? Bless’d if he ain’t a goin’ to do awy with the Lords!”

Second ’Arry: (more of a Don Juan than a Politician). “Do awy with the ’ole bloomin’ lot o’ Lords, if he likes, as long as he don’t do awy with the Lidies!”

First Boy (much interested in the game of Buttons). “’As ’e lost?”

Second Ditto. “Yes; ’e lost all them Buttons what ’e won off Tommy Crowther yesterday, an’ then ’e cut all the Buttons off ’is Clothes, and ’e’s lost them too!”

Hungry-looking Acquaintance (with eye to invitation). “So glad to see you enjoying yourself!”

Fat Chap (evidently doing well). “Wrong again, old Man. I’m enjoying my Dinner!”

Serious and much-Married Man. “My dear Friend, I was astonished to hear of your dining at Madame TroisÉtoiles!—a ‘Woman with a Past’ you know!”

The Friend (Bachelor “unattached”). “Well, you see, old Man, she’s got a first-rate Chef, so it isn’t her ‘Past’ but her ‘Re-past’ that I care about.”

Editor of Libellous Rag (who has just received a terrific but well-deserved kick). “Dud you man thot?”

Colonel McMurder. “Yis, oi dud, you thunderin’ villain!”

Editor. “Oh, very well, thot’s all roight. Oi t’ought it moight av been wan o’ thim prac-ta-cle jokes”!

Scene—Bar of a Railway Refreshment Room.

Barmaid. “Tea, Sir?” Mr. Boozy. “Tea!!! ME!!!!”

First Boy. “Give us a Bite of your Apple, Bob.”

Second Boy. “Shan’t.”

First Boy. “What for?”

Second Boy. “’Cos yer axed me!”

(After a pause.)

Small Boy. “Gi’ me a Bite, Bob. I never axed yer!”

New Assistant (after hair-cutting, to Jones, who has been away for a couple of weeks). “Your ’Air is very thin be’ind, Sir. Try Singeing!”

Jones (after a pause). “Yes, I think I will.”

N.A. (after singeing). “Shampoo, Sir? Good for the ’Air, Sir.”

Jones. “Thank you. Yes.”

N.A. “Your Moustaches curled?”

Jones. “Please.”

N.A. “May I give you a Friction?”

Jones. “Thank you.”

N.A. “Will you try some of our——”

Manager (who has just sighted his man, in Stage whisper). “You Idiot! He’s a Subscriber!!”

Youngster (who has just had a Penny given to him). “’Ow much is them Grapes, Mister?”

Shopkeeper (amused). “They are Four Shillings and Sixpence a Pound, my Lad.”

Youngster. “Well, then, give us a ’A’porth o’ Carrots. I’m a Demon for Fruit!”

Ragged Urchin (who has just picked up very short and dirty end of a Cigarette). “Hi, Billy! Look ’ere! See what you’ve missed!”

First Gossip. “So you was nivver axed tut Funeral?”

Second Gossip. “Nivver as much as inside t’house. But nobbut wait till we hev’ a Funeral of us own, an’ we’ll show ’em!”

Father of Family (who has accidentally shot the leg of a Fowl under the table). “Mind t’Dog doesn’t get it!”

Young Hopeful (triumphantly). “All right, Feyther! I’ve gotten me Foot on it!”

Workman (politely, to old Lady, who has accidentally got into the Smoking Compartment). “You don’ object to my Pipe, I ’ope Mum?”

Old Lady. “Yes, I do object, very strongly!”

Workman. “Oh! Then out you get!!”

Chorus (slow music). “We’ve a rare old—fair old—rickety Crew!”

Importunate Street Urchin (for the tenth time). “Gi’ us a Copper. Sir! Gi’ us a Copper!”

Testy Individual (losing patience). “Oh, go to”—(substitutes a milder form)—“blazes!”

Street Urchin. “Sure thin an’ I would in this bastly could weather, if I was only certain o’ comin’ back again!” [Individual’s testiness overcome and Urchin rewarded.

Coster (to acquaintance, who has been away for some months). “Wot are yer bin doin’ all this time?”

Bill Robbins (who has been “doing time”). “Oh, I’ve bin Wheelin’ a bit, Ole Man—Wheelin’ a bit!”

Johnnie (who finds that his Box, £20, has been appropriated by “the Fancy”). “I beg your pardon, but this is my Box!”

Bill Basford. “Oh, is it? Well, why don’t you tike it?”

Fussy Old Lady. “Now don’t forget, Conductor. I want the Bank of England.”

Conductor. “All right, Mum.” (Aside.) “She don’t want much, do she, Mate?”

First ’Arry (with newspaper). “I say, ’Arry, you’se a Toff. What’s a ‘Collar Day’ at Court?”

Second ’Arry. “Donno ’xactly. Suppose it’s a Saturday when things come ’ome from the Wash.”

First ’Arry. “Oh, I see—‘Clean Collar Day’!”

Doctor. “Did you give the Children the Physic I sent last night?”

Fond Mother. “Yes, Sir.”

Doctor. “And how are they to-day?”

Fond Mother. “Well, the little un’s very bad to be sure. But it don’t seem to ’ave done the t’other un’ no ’Arm as yet!”

Old Jones. “Yes, my Boy, there’s Wine for you, eh? I bought Ten Pounds of it the other day.”

Brown. “What a lot you must have got!”

Jim. “What’s this ere ‘Bi-metallism,’ Bill?”

Bill (of superior intelligence). “Well, yer see, Jim, it’s heither a Licensed Wittlers’ or a Teetotal Dodge. The Wages’ll be paid in Silver, and no more Coppers. So you can’t get no arf-pint nor hanythink under a Sixpence or a Thrip’ny. Then you heither leaves it alone, and takes to Water like a Duck, or you runs up a score.”

Jim. “Ah! But if there ain’t no more Coppers, ’ow about the ’Buses and the Hunderground Rileway?”

Bill (profoundly). “Ah!” [Left sitting.

Small Voice from under the Bed. “No, I will not come out! I tell you, once and for all.”

Bernesia. “I will be Master in my own House!”

Photographer. “I think this is an excellent Portrait of your Wife.”

Mr. Smallweed. “I don’t know—sort of repose about the mouth that somehow doesn’t seem right”

Enthusiastic Briton (to seedy American, who has been running down all our National Monuments). “But even if our Houses of Parliament ‘aren’t in it,’ as you say, with the Masonic Temple of Chicago, surely, Sir, you will admit the Thames Embankment, for instance——”

Seedy American. “Waal, guess I don’t think so durned much of your Thames Embankment, neither. It rained all the blarmed time the night I slep on it.”

Clerk of Booking-Office. “There is no First Class by this Train, Sir.”

’Arry. “Then wot are we going ter do, Bill?”

Tramp (to benevolent but inquisitive Lady). “Well you see, Mum, it were like this. I were a ’Addick Smoker by profession; then I got ill, and ’ad to go to the ’Orspital; then I sold Cats’ Meat; but some’ow or other I got into low water!”

Fussy Old Gent. “Hi! Stop! stop! I want to get down.”

Driver. “I can’t stop the bloomin’ thing!!”

Stout Coster. “Where are yer goin’ to, Bill?”

Bill. “Inter the Country for a nice Drive, bein’ Bank ’Olidy.”

Stout Coster. “Same ’ere. I sy! don’t yer think we might swop Misseses just for a few Hours? It would be so much kinder to the Hanimile!”