that he had laid,
But still--_tu-wee_, _tu-wit_--
I can't forget the tune he played,
And that's the truth of it.

* * * * *

ANOMALIES OF FEMININITY.

[Illustration: WHY IS IT THAT MISS BIRDIE MONTRESSOR (OF THE PALACEUM)

ATTENDS THE ARTISTS' BALL AT COVENT GARDEN LIKE THIS?

WHILE MRS. DUMPERLEY-BROWNE (OF WEST KENSINGTON)

APPEARS AS ABOVE?]

* * * * *

THE AUTHOR.

I was reading proofs in my corner of the compartment, as I often do, and
every time that I looked up I noticed the little shabby pathetic man with
his eyes fixed upon me.

After a while I finished and put the proofs away with a sigh of relief.

"So you're an author too?" he said.

"Yes," I said, though I didn't want to talk at all.

"You wouldn't have thought I was one," he went on, "would you? What would
you have said I did for a living?"

I am too old to guess such things. One nearly always gives offence.
Moreover, I have seen too many authors to show any surprise.

"I'm not only a writer," he said, "but I dare say I'm better known than
you."

"That's not difficult," I said.

"I am read by thousands--very likely millions--every day."

"This is very strange," I said. "Millions? Who are you, then? Not--no, you
can't be. You haven't a red beard; you are not in knickerbockers; you don't
recall SHAKSPEARE. Nor can you be Mrs. BARCLAY. And yet, of course, I must
have heard your name. Might I hear it again, now?"

"My name is unknown," he said. "All my work is anonymous."

"Not advertisements?" I said. "Not posters'? You didn't write the 'Brown
Cat's thanks,' or 'Alas, my poor brother,' or----"

"Certainly not," he replied. "My line is literature. Do you ever go to
cinemas?"

"Now and then," I said, "when it rains, or I have an unexpected hour, or it
is too late for a play."

"Then you have read me," he said. "I write for cinemas."

"There isn't much writing there," I suggested.

"Oh, isn't there!" he answered. "Haven't you ever noticed in a cinema how
letters are always being brought in on trays?"

"Yes, I have."

"And then the hero or the villain or the victim opens them and reads them?"

"Yes."

"And then the audience has to read them?"

"Yes; there's no doubt about that."

"Well, those are all written by me. I mean, of course, all those that a
certain film company requires."

"Marvellous," I said.

"I not only compose them--and it requires