other "Cavalleria" as soon as they could do it
before an intelligent Audience of True-Lovers.

The Ex-Minstrel Man said there wasn't no such Animal as an intelligent
Playgoer.

The Simp that pushed his Metal into the Box Office wanted Something
Doing every minute and many Gals, otherwise it was back to the
Store-House and a Card in the Clipper.

The Call on the Board read "Everybody at Ten," but the brainy Writer
and the versatile Composer were not included.

When they appeared at the Stage Door they were met by Props, who told
them to get to a certain Place out of there.

Standing in the Alley, they could hear Wails of Anguish, and they knew
that their Child was having the Vital Organs removed.

The celebrated Author of the Graveyard Rag had been summoned in haste.
He was in charge of the Clinic--taking out the Grammar and putting in
Gags.

The Duos and Ensembles were being dropped through the Trap Door to
make way for recent Song Hits from the alcoholic Cabarets.

The Ax fell right on the powdered Neck of the beautiful Prima Donna,
who had studied for Grand Opera, but never had been able to find an
Orchestra that would fit her Voice.

Her Part was changed from a Princess to a Shop-Lifter and was assigned
to Cissy St. Vitus, late of a Burlesque Bunch known as the Lady Bugs.

The Tenor was given the Hook, and his sentimental Role was entrusted
to a Head-Spinner who had acquired his Dramatic Schooling with the
Ringling Circus.

All of which comes under the head of whipping a Performance into
Shape.

When the two Geniuses sat out in front they recognized nothing except
the Scenery and Costumes.

Their idyllic Creation had been mangled into a roughhouse Riot, in
which Disorderly Conduct alternated with the shameless Gyrations
taught in San Francisco.

The last Act had been omitted altogether without affecting the
coherency of the Story.

The Plot died just four minutes after the Ring-Up.

Although the Report showed 27 Encores and the Gate began to jump $80 a
Night, both the intellectual Troubadour and the Student of
Counter-Harmonies went to the Manager and cried on his Shoulder and
said that their Beautiful Work had been ruined.

He called attention to the Chunk of Money tied up in Silk Tights and
fireproof Borders.

When it came to a show-down between Dough and Art he didn't propose to
tear up his Meal Ticket.

If they would beat it and stay hid and leave the Artists fatten up
their Scenes, pro