hen JONES found himself in the Strand he noticed that the traffic was
considerably less than usual. The omnibuses were few and far between,
and he did not see a cab in any direction.

"Yes, Sir," replied a policeman, who was removing his band of office,
preparatory to going home; "you won't find many. Eight hours' limit,
Sir. Good-day, Sir. I am off myself."

The boats had ceased running; there were no trams. To pass the time he
thought he would call upon the Editor, whose rooms were in Fleet Street.

"I hope I am not interrupting you," he said, as he entered the sanctum.

"Interrupting me! Why, I am delighted to see you. We have nothing to do.
Mustn't exceed the eight hours, and they were up at two o'clock. But how
did you get in?"

"Oh, the Publisher opened the door, and then returned to a rubber of
whist he was playing with the Reader, the Manager, and the Head of the
Advertisement Department. I was introduced to them all. Then I watched a
tug of war going on in the composing-room between the Compositors on the
one side, and the Machinists and Foundry-men on the other, and came up
here."

"Very glad to see you, my dear fellow!" and the Editor once again shook
hands.

A little later JONES entered a restaurant, but he was refused dinner.
The eight hours' limit had cleared off the cooks and the waiters.
Half-starving, he purchased a stall for the theatre. For a while his
thoughts were distracted by the excellence of the performance. Suddenly,
in the most interesting part of the play, the curtain was prematurely
dropped.

"Very sorry," said the Stage Manager, addressing the audience from
behind the footlights, "but, Ladies and Gentlemen, we have no option. We
had a rehearsal this morning of the new piece, and, taking this into
consideration, our limit is reached. I may seize this opportunity for
regretfully announcing that as two performances take more than eight
hours, the customary Saturday _Matinee_ will for the future be
discontinued."

The orchestra played a few bars of the National Anthem, and the theatre
cleared. JONES strolled on to the Embankment, and, the evening being
pleasant, took a seat. Beside him was a student reading for examination,
a clergyman thinking out a sermon, and an artist taking a rough sketch.
JONES took out a brief himself and opened it.

"It's no business of mine," said a policeman off duty, who happened to
be passing, "but you gents will get yourselves into trouble if you
excee