tinerant
photographer of the highest eminence, and framed and glazed ready for
hanging. Is that photograph never to know the nail which even now awaits
it? Can you not surrender a passing girlish fancy, to spare your fond
old father's fame? Mr. SPIKER is peculiar, perhaps, in many ways--not
quite of our _monde_--but he loves you sincerely, my child, and that is,
in itself, a recommendation. Ah, I see--my prayers are vain ... be
happy, then. As for me, let the police come--I am ready! [_Weeps._

_Verb._ Not so, Papa; I will marry this Mr. SPIKER, since it is your
wish. [Sir POSH. _dries his eyes_.

_Sir P._ Here, SPIKER, my dear fellow, it is all right. Come in. She
accepts you.

_Enter_ SPIKER.

_Sp._ Thought she would. Sensible little gal! Well, Miss, you shan't
regret it. Bless you, we'll be as chummy together as a couple of little
dicky-birds!

_Verb._ Mr. SPIKER, let us understand one another. I will do my best to
be a good wife to you--but chumminess is not mine to give, nor can I
promise ever to be your dicky-bird.

_Enter_ Lord BLESHUGH.

_Lord B._ Sir POSHBURY, may I have five minutes with you? VERBENA, you
need not go. (_Looking at_ SPIKER.) Perhaps this person will kindly
relieve us of his presence.

_Sp._ Sorry to disoblige, old feller, but I'm on duty where Miss VERBENA
is now, you see, as she's just promised to be my wife.

_Lord B._ _Your_ wife!

_Verb. (faintly)._ Yes, Lord BLESHUGH, his _wife_!

_Sir P._ Yes, my poor boy, _his_ wife!

[VERBENA _totters, and falls heavily in a dead faint_, R.C., _upsetting
a flower-stand_; Lord BLESHUGH _staggers, and swoons on sofa_, C.,
_overturning a table of knicknacks_; Sir POSHBURY _sinks into chair_,
L.C., _and covers his face with his hands_.

_Sp. (looking down on them triumphantly)._ Under the Harrow, by Gad!
Under the Harrow! [_Curtain, and end of Act I._

* * * * *

[Illustration: STRIKING HOME.]

_Punch loquitur:_--

WELL, you have got your way, my lad,
And may it prove good all round.
Liberal pay is your right, I say,
For your grim work underground.

Rise of pay and a shorter day?
Excellent things, belike,
Yet would they were sought in another way
Than the cruel road of a Strike.

I see you've been having a smoke, my lad;
What did you see in the smoke?
Why, some things good, and many things bad,
And nought that is matter for joke.

At every puff there's a p