?

_The P.M._ Me go and form a cue down there and get squeeged like at
the Adelphi Pit, all to set in a rickety gondoaler! I can see all _I_
want to see without messing about in one o' them things!

_The Others_. Well, I dunno as it's worth the extry sixpence, come to
think of it. (_They pass on, contentedly._)

_Jem_. We're on the Rialto Bridge now, LIZZIE, d'ye see? The one in
SHAKSPEARE, _you_ know.

_Lizzie_. That's the one they call the "Bridge o' Sighs," ain't it?
(_Hazily._) Is that because there's _shops_ on it?

_Jem_. I dessay. Shops--or else suicides.

_Lizzie_ (_more hazily than ever_). Ah, the same as the Monument.
(_They walk on with a sense of mental enlargement._)

_Mrs. Lavender Salt_. It's wonderfully like the real thing, LAVENDER,
isn't it? Of course they can't _quite_ get the true Venetian
atmosphere!

_Mr. L.S._ Well, MIMOSA, they'd have the Sanitary Authorities down on
them if they _did_, you know!

_Mrs. L.S._ Oh, you're so horribly unromantic! But, LAVENDER, couldn't
we get one of those gondolas and go about. It would be so lovely to be
in one again, and fancy ourselves back in dear Venice, now _wouldn't_
it?

_Mr. L.S._ The illusion is cheap at sixpence; so come along, MIMOSA!

[_He secures, tickets, and presently the LAVENDER SALTS,
find themselves part of a long queue, being marshalled
between barriers by Italian gendarmes in a state of politely
suppressed amusement._

_Mrs. L.S._ (_over her shoulder to her husband, as she imagines_). I'd
no idea we should have to go through all this! Must we really herd
in with all these people? Can't we two manage to get a gondola all to
ourselves?

_A Voice_ (_not LAVENDER's--in her ear_). I'm sure I'm 'ighly
flattered, Mum, but I'm already suited; yn't I, DYSY?

[_DYSY corroborates his statement with unnecessary emphasis._

_A Sturdy Democrat_ (_in front, over his shoulder_). Pity yer didn't
send word you was coming, Mum, and then they'd ha' kep' the place
clear of us common people for yer! [Mrs. L.S. _is sorry she spoke._

IN THE GONDOLA.--_Mr. and Mrs. L.S. are seated in the back
seat, supported on one side by the Humorous 'ARRY and his
Fiancee, and on the other by a pale, bloated youth, with a
particularly rank cigar, and the Sturdy Democrat, whose two
small boys occupy the seat in front._

_The St. Dem._ (_with malice aforethought_). If you two lads ain't
got room there, I dessay this lady