used awhile, a rather anxious
expression clouding her perfect profile. She looked like a meditative
Greek goddess. "If he doesn't," she added with maidenly dignity, "it's
the last time _I_ go out with the big stiff. I'd tie a can to him
quicker'n look at him!"

A murmur of approval greeted this admirable sentiment.

"Childrun!" protested Mr. Saltzburg. "Chil-drun! Less noise and
chatter of conversation. We are here to work! We must not waste time!
So! Act One, Opening Chorus. Now, all together. La-la-la...."

"La-la-la...."

"Tum-tum-tumty-tumty...."

"Tum-tum-tumty...."

Mr. Saltzburg pressed his hands to his ears in a spasm of pain.

"No, no, no! Sour! Sour! Sour!... Once again. La-la-la...."

A round-faced girl with golden hair and the face of a wondering cherub
interrupted, speaking with a lisp.

"Mithter Thalzburg."

"Now what is it, Miss Trevor?"

"What sort of a show is this?"

"A musical show," said Mr. Saltzburg severely, "and this is a
rehearsal of it, not a conversazione. Once more, please."

The cherub was not to be rebuffed.

"Is the music good, Mithter Thalzburg?"

"When you have rehearsed it, you shall judge for yourself. Come
now...."

"Is there anything in it as good as that waltz of yours you played us
when we were rehearthing 'Mind How You Go?' You remember. The one that
went...."

A tall and stately girl, with sleepy brown eyes and the air of a
duchess in the servants' hall, bent forward and took a kindly interest
in the conversation.

"Oh, have you composed a varlse, Mr. Saltzburg?" she asked with
pleasant condescension. "How interesting, really! Won't you play it
for us?"

The sentiment of the meeting seemed to be unanimous in favour of
shelving work and listening to Mr. Saltzburg's waltz.

"Oh, Mr. Saltzburg, do!"

"Please!"

"Some one told me it was a pipterino!"

"I cert'nly do love waltzes!"

"Please, Mr. Saltzburg!"

Mr. Saltzburg obviously weakened. His fingers touched the keys
irresolutely.

"But, childrun!"

"I am sure it would be a great pleasure to all of us," said the
duchess graciously, "if you would play it. There is nothing I enjoy
more than a good varlse."

Mr. Saltzburg capitulated. Like all musical directors he had in his
leisure moments composed the complete score of a musical play and
spent much of his time waylaying librettists on the Rialto and trying
to lure them to his apartment to listen to it, with a view to
business. The eternal tr