mpared
ribbons and flounces, he called again for silence, and a tremendous
outburst of clapping and stamping followed his announcement: "Mr. Victor
Maulever, the famous West End actor, will recite 'Who'll have a Blood
Orange?'"

Victor made good with his first three sentences. In the language of his
profession, he got 'em with both hands. They rose at him. He had 'em
stung to death. He did what he liked with 'em. The girls giggled and
kicked little feet. They shamelessly broke into his periods with
"_Isn't_ he IT?" and he had to wait while the laughs went round.

When he had finished he got such a hand as I'm sure he never had in the
whole of his stage career. They wouldn't let him sit down. They would
give him no rest; he must go straight on and give more. So he gave them
two more, including his impressions of George Robey, G. P. Huntley, Joe
Elvin, R. G. Knowles, and Wilkie Bard singing "Little Grey Home in the
West."

Then the President appealed to the audience to let poor Mr. Maulever
have a rest and a little refreshment; and at once the girls rushed to
the table and fought with one another for sandwiches and coffee and
cakes with which they might minister to the exhausted Thespian. The boys
did not get savage about this; they seemed to share in the fun, and when
new girl-arrivals came in, they were solemnly introduced to the star.
"Oh, Mr. Maulever, may I introduce my friend, Miss Redgrove?" Miss
Redgrove smiled becomingly, and Victor rose, bowed, extended his
graceful hand, and said: "Delighted, Miss Redgrove!" and Miss Redgrove
said: "Pleased to meet you!" And in reply to Victor's inquiry: "I hope
you're well?" she said that she mustn't grumble.

A few of the girls wore evening frocks; others, with more limited
means, contented themselves with Sunday frocks or delicately coloured
robes that had been manoeuvred into something that showed enough white
neck and bosom to be at once alluring and decorous. There was nothing of
the plain or the dowdy. They were all out for enjoyment, and they meant
to make the best of everything, themselves included. Frills and
fluffiness were the order. They were all darlings.

A gentle raillery was the note of intercourse between girls and boys.
One of the little girls, a typist, I gathered, in a mercantile office,
whispered to her boy that Victor was A Love, and added that she always
did like men best when they were old and had grey hair. They were so ...
kind of ... if he knew