Lizzie giggled.

"Ow, you are a funny man, Mr. 'Inde," she said between her t.i.tters.

Hinde gaped at her as if he were incapable of expressing himself in adequate language.

"That female," He said turning to John, "always tells me I'm a funny man!..."

"Well, so you are, Mr. 'Inde!" Lizzie interrupted.

"Get out," he roared at her.

Lizzie addressed John. "You'll get used to 'is comic ways when you know 'im as well as I do. Wot'll you 'ave for breakfis?" she continued, speaking again to Hinde.

"Anything," he replied. "Anything on G.o.d's earth, so long as you get out!"

"That's all I wanted to know," said Lizzie. "It'll be 'am an' eggs.

Goo'-night, Mr. MacDermott!"

"Good-night, Lizzie," John murmured.

"Goo'-night, Mr. 'Inde!"

"Come here!" said Hinde.

She came across the room and stood beside him. He took hold of her chin. "If you hadn't such a rotten accent," he said, "I'd marry you!"

She giggled. "You do myke me laugh, Mr. 'Inde!" she said.

"_H_inde, woman, _H_inde!..."

She moved away from him as if he had uttered some perfectly commonplace remark. "Very well," she said, "it'll be 'am an' eggs for breakfis. I'm glad you chose them, because we ain't got nothink else in the 'ouse.

Goo'-night, all!"

She went out of the room, but hardly had she shut the door behind her, when she opened it again.

"'Ere's the Creams 'ome again!" she said. "Goo'-night all!"

V

A few minutes later, Cream tapped on their door and, in response to Hinde's "Come in!" entered. He greeted Hinde lavishly, and then turned to John.

"Well, my boy," he said, "what do you think of her? Great, isn't she?

Absolute eye-opener, that's what she is, I knew you'd be struck dumb by her. That's the effect she has on people. Paralyses them. Lays 'em out.

By Gum, Mac, that woman's a wonder!..."

"How is she?" John asked.

Cream shook his head. "All in bits, as usual, Mac. I ought not to let her do the work ... it's wearing her out ... but you can't keep a great artist away from the stage. She'd die quicker if she weren't doing her work than she will while she's doing. That's Art, Mac. Extraordinary thing, Art!..."

"Have a drink, Cream," Hinde exclaimed.

"I don't mind if I do, Hinde, old chap. Did you notice how she held the audience, Mac? The minute she stepped on to the stage, she got 'em.

Absolute! She played with 'em ... did what she liked with 'em!... I wish I could get hold of 'em like that. By Heaven, Mac, it must be wonderful to have that woman's power to make an audience do just what you want it to do!..."

Hinde handed a gla.s.s of whiskey and soda to him. "Thanks, old chap!" he said, taking it from him. He raised the gla.s.s. "Well, here's health!"

he murmured, swallowing some of the drink. He put the gla.s.s down on the table beside him. "When do you think you'll be able to let us have the ma.n.u.script of the play, Mac?"

John started. "Well," he began nervously, "well, I haven't thought much about it yet!..."

"Look here," said Cream, "I've been talking to Dolly about the matter, and this is her idea. She wants to play in a piece about a naval lieutenant. See? In a submarine or something. Something with a bit of snap in it. She'd like to be an Irish girl called Kitty in love with the lieutenant. See? Make it so's he can wear his uniform and a c.o.c.ked hat and a sword. See? The audience likes to see a bit of style. You could put a comic stoker in ... that 'ud do for me, but of course as I told you, you needn't worry much about my part. I'll look after myself.

Now, do you think you could do anything with that idea? Dolly's dead set on playing an Irish girl, and of course, you being Irish and all that, you'd know the ropes!"

"I'll think about it," said John.

"Do. That's a good chap. And perhaps you can let me have the ma.n.u.script at the end of the week ... in the rough anyhow!"

He finished his whiskey and soda.

"Have another?" Hinde said.

"No, thanks, no. You know. Mac, the stage is a funny place. The average author doesn't realise what a funny place it is. I've met a few authors in my time, high-brow and low-brow and no-brow-at-all, and they're all the same: think they know more about the theatre than the actor does.

But they don't. They all want to be littery. And that's no good ... in the music-halls anyhow. If you've got anything to say to a music-hall audience, don't waste time in being littery or anything like that. Bung It At 'Em, Mac!" He p.r.o.nounced the last injunction with enormous emphasis. "An audience is about the thickest thing on earth. Got no brains to speak of, and doesn't want to have any. Mind you, each person in the audience may be as clever as you like, but as an audience ...

see? ... they're simply thick. And if you want 'em to understand anything, you've got to Bung It At 'Em. No use being delicate or pretty or anything like that. That's what authors don't understand. Now, you heard those back-chat-comedians at the Oxford to-night?"

John nodded his head. "They weren't much good," he said.

"Why?" Cream demanded, and then, before John could speak, he went on to give the answer to his question. "Because they don't know how to get their stuff over the footlights. That's why! They had good stuff to work with, but they didn't know what to do with it. _I_ could have told 'em. Do you remember that joke about the dog that swallowed the tape-measure and died?"

"Yes. It sounded rather silly!..."

"And it didn't get a laugh. The silliness of a thing doesn't matter if it makes you laugh. This is how they said it. The tall chap says to the little one, 'How's your dog, Joe?' and the little one answered, 'Oh, he died last week. He swallowed a tape-measure and died by inches!...'"

Hinde laughed. "Do people pay good money to listen to that sort of stuff?"

"You're a journalist," Cream replied, "and you ought to know they pay money to _read_ worse than that!"

"So they do," Hinde admitted.

"When I heard those two duffers ruining that joke," Cream continued, "I felt as if I wanted to run on to the stage and tell 'em how to get it over to the audience. This is how they ought to have done it!"

He stood up and enacted the characters of the two back-chat comedians, and as John watched him and listened to him, he realised what a great actor the little man was.

_"Say, Joe, what're you in mourning for?"

"I'm in mourning for my little dog!"

"Your little dog. Why, your little dog ain't dead, is it?"