wer any questions
any lady or gentleman may like to put to her, always provided you
won't ask her how it is done--for I'm sure she wouldn't give me away,
_would_ you, She?

_She_ (_with a slow bow and gracious smile_). Certingly not.

_The F.S._ (_to her Companion_). Ask her something--do.

_Her Comp._ Go on! _I_ ain't got anything to ask her--ask her
yourself!

_A Bolder Spirit_ (_with interest_). Are your _feet_ warm?

_She_. Quite--thanks.

_The Showman_. How old are you, She?

_She_ (_impressively_). Two theousand years.

_'Arry._ And quite a young thing, too!

_A Spectator_ (_who has read the Novel_). 'Ave you 'eard from LEO
VINCEY lately?

_She_ (_coldly_). I don't know the gentleman.

_Showman_. If you have no more questions to ask her, She will now
retire into her urn, thanking you all for your kind attendance this
morning, which will conclude the entertainment.

[_Final disappearance of_ She. _The Audience pass out,
feeling--with perfect justice--that they have "had their
money's worth."_

* * * * *

HOW IT'S DONE.

_A HAND-BOOK OF HONESTY._

NO. III.--GRANDMOTHERLY GOVERNMENT.

SCENE I.--_St. Stephen's._ Sagacious Legislator _on his legs
advocating a new Anti-Adulteration Act. Few M.P.'s present,
most of them drowsing_.

_Sagacious Legislator_. As I was saying, Sir, the adulteration of
Butter has been pushed to such abominable lengths that no British
Workman knows whether what he is eating is the product of the Cow
or of the Thames mud-banks. (_A snigger._) Talk of a Free Breakfast
Table! I would free the Briton's Breakfast Table from the unwholesome
incubus of Adulteration. At any rate, if the customer chooses to
purchase butter which is _not_ butter, he shall do it knowingly, with
his eyes open. (_Feeble "Hear, hear!"_) Under this Act anything which
is not absolutely unsophisticated milk-made Butter must be plainly
marked, and openly vended as Adipocerene!

[Illustration]

[_Amidst considerable applause the Act is passed._

SCENE II.--_Small Butterman's shop in a poor neighbourhood.
Burly white-apron'd Proprietor behind counter. To him enter a
pasty-faced Workman, with a greasy pat of something wrapped in
a leaf from a ledger._

_Workman._ I say, Guv'nor, lookye here. This 'ere stuff as you sold my
old woman, is simply beastly. I don't believe it's butter at all.

_Butterman_ (_sneeringly_). And who sa