out-of-jointed,
Though your heart be as cold as an icicle king's,
Forgive us and say we are nice 'ikkle things."

"Oh, hush! hush! dreadful," implored the Lord Mayor, endeavouring in
vain to extricate himself from the dramatic lady's clutches.

At this moment a gruff judicial voice, which sent an immediate thrill
down the worthy Lord Mayor's back, broke in upon the scene.

"Now, then, what's all this? Move on, there!"

A dark blue policeman stood in the pale blue moonlight.

The Lord Mayor only shivered.

The dramatic lady was equal to the occasion.

"Aren't we a picture?" she asked coquettishly.

"Get up, then," commanded the policeman dryly, "and be a movin' one."

"All right, don't get huffy, dear, we're professionals."

"So I should think," observed the policeman shortly.

The Writer thought this a most propitious moment to seize the Lord
Mayor by the arm, and hurry him in the direction of his own rooms,
across the almost deserted centre of the Square, without waiting for
any further conversation of any description.

The policeman stared after them suspiciously as they moved away.

"What's he doing in them things?" inquired the policeman of the lady.

"Lor', 'ow should I know? I guess he's a good sort, though, he gave me
some money."

"Oh, did he?" remarked the policeman in a sepulchral voice. "Well, I
hope he came by it honestly, that's all."

"Oh, that old chap's all right, old tin-feet," retorted the once time
Lady of the Drama. "I only think 'e's a bit balmy in his 'ead, that's
all. So-long, I'm off 'ome!"

"Balmy in his head, eh?" grumbled the policeman gruffly. "Ah, I
thought there was a funny look about him; yes. Well, I had better
follow him up, and see that he doesn't get up to no mischief of any
sort."

"I say, Dad," suggested the Writer, "you had better let me carry the
wreath, whilst you lake off those robes; you know they attract a lot of
attention, even at this time of night."

"I am afraid they do," confessed the Mayor. "What a dreadful and
degrading scene! That upsetting fragment of a pantomime enacted in the
open air, too, which is only a specimen of the stuff I was compelled to
listen to for so many years!"

"She evidently regarded you as an old friend, and a patron of the
theatre," laughed the Writer, "without in any way guessing your
identity."

"It was a terrible situation," groaned the Lord Mayor; "however shall I
be able to tell Mum about such an inci