Voces Populi. Anstey F.

QUIET MAN IN A CORNER. I 'ope you told all this to the Policeman, Sir?

      The C. O. G. (flaming unexpectedly). No, Sir, I did not. I am not in the habit – whatever you may be – of discussing my private affairs with strangers. I consider your remark highly impertinent, Sir.

[Fumes in silence for the rest of the journey

      The Young Lady with the Parcel (to her friend – for the sake of vindicating her gentility). Oh, my dear, I do feel so funny, carrying a great brown-paper parcel, in a bus, too! Any one would take me for a shop-girl!

      A Grim Old Lady Opposite. And I only hope, my dear, you'll never be taken for any one less respectable.

[Collapse of Genteel Y.L

      First Humorous 'Arry (recognising a friend on entering). Excuse me stoppin' your kerridge, old man, but I thought you wouldn't mind givin' me a lift, as you was goin' my way.

      Second H. 'A. Quite welcome, old chap, so long as you give my man a bit when you git down, yer know.

      First H. 'A. Oh, o' course – that's expected between gentlemen.

      (Both look round to see if their facetiousness is appreciated, find it is not and subside.)

      The Conductor. Benk, benk! (he means "Bank") 'Oborn, benk! 'Igher up there, Bill, can't you?

      A Dingy Man smoking, in a van. Want to block up the ole o' the road, eh? That's right!

      The Conductor (roused to personality). Go 'ome, Dirty Dick! syme old soign, I see, – "Monkey an' Poipe!" (To Coachman of smart brougham which is pressing rather closely behind.) I say old man, don't you race after my bus like this – you'll only tire your 'orse.

[The Coachman affects not to have heard

      The Conductor (addressing the brougham horse, whose head is almost through the door of the omnibus). 'Ere, 'ang it all! – step insoide, if yer want to!

[Brougham falls to rear – triumph of Conductor as Scene closes

      At a Sale of High-Class Sculpture

Scene —An upper floor in a City Warehouse; a low whitewashed room, dimly lighted by dusty windows and two gas-burners in wire cages. Around the walls are ranged several statues of meek aspect, securely confined in barred wooden cases, like a sort of marble menagerie. In the centre, a labyrinthine grove of pedestals, surmounted by busts, groups, and statuettes by modern Italian masters. About these pedestals a small crowd – consisting of Elderly Merchants on the look out for a "neat thing in statuary" for the conservatory at Croydon or Muswell Hill, Young City Men who have dropped in after lunch, Disinterested Dealers, Upholsterers' Buyers, Obliging Brokers, and Grubby and Mysterious men – is cautiously circulating

      Obliging Broker (to Amiable Spectator, who has come in out of curiosity, and without the remotest intention of purchasing sculpture). No Catlog, Sir? 'Ere, allow me to orfer you mine – that's my name in pencil on the top of it, Sir; and, if you should 'appen to see any lot that takes your fancy, you jest ketch my eye. (Reassuringly.) I sha'n't be fur off. Or look 'ere, gimme a nudge – I shall know what it means.

[The A. S. thanks him profusely, and edges away with an inward vow to avoid his and the Auctioneer's eyes, as he would those of a basilisk

      Auctioneer (from desk, with the usual perfunctory fervour). Lot 13, Gentlemen, very charming pair of subjects from child life – "The Pricked Finger" and "The Scratched Toe" – by Bimbi.

      A Stolid Assistant (in shirtsleeves). Figgers 'ere, Gen'lm'n!

[Languid surge of crowd towards them

      A Facetious Bidder. Which of 'em's the finger and which the toe?

      Auct. (coldly). I should have thought it was easy to identify by the attitude. Now, Gentlemen, give me a bidding for these very finely-executed works by Bimbi. Make any offer. What will you give me for 'em? Both very sweet things, Gentlemen. Shall we say ten guineas?

      A Grubby Man. Give yer five.

      Auct. (with grieved resignation). Very well, start 'em at five. Any advance on five? (To Assist.) Turn 'em round, to show the back view. And a 'arf! Six! And a 'arf! Only six and a 'arf bid for this beautiful pair of figures, done direct from nature by Bimbi. Come, Gentlemen, come! Seven! Was that you, Mr. Grimes? (The Grubby Man admits the soft impeachment.) Seven and a 'arf. Eight! It's against you.

      Mr. Grimes (with a supreme effort). Two-and-six!

[Mops his brow with a red cotton handkerchief

      Auct. (in a tone of gratitude for the smallest mercies). Eight-ten-six. All done at eight-ten-six? Going … gone! Grimes, Eight, ten, six. Take money for 'em. Now we come to a very 'andsome work by Piffalini – "The Ocarina Player," one of this great artist's masterpieces, and an exceedingly choice and high-class work, as you will all agree directly you see it. (To Assist.) Now, then, Lot 14, there – look sharp!

      Stolid Assist. "Hocarina Plier" eyn't arrived, Sir.

      Auct. Oh, hasn't it? Very well, then. Lot 15. "The Pretty Pill-taker," by Antonio Bilio – a really magnificent work of Art, Gentlemen. ("Pill-taker, 'ere.!" from the S. A.) What'll you give me for her? Come, make me an offer. (Bidding proceeds till the "Pill-taker" is knocked down for twenty-three-and-a-half guineas.) Lot 16, "The Mixture as Before," by same artist – make a charming and suitable companion to the last lot. What do you say, Mr. Middleman – take it at the same bidding? (Mr. M. assents, with the end of one eyebrow.) Any advance on twenty-three and a 'arf? None? Then, – Middleman, Twenty-four, thirteen, six.

      Mr. Middleman (to the Amiable Spectator, who has been vaguely inspecting the "Pill-taker"). Don't know if you noticed it, Sir, but I got that last couple very cheap – on'y forty-seven guineas the pair, and they are worth eighty, I solemnly declare to you. I could get forty a piece for 'em to-morrow, upon my word and honour, I could. Ah, and I know who'd give it me for 'em, too!

      The A. S. (sympathetically). Dear me, then you've done very well over it.

      Mr. M. Ah, well ain't the word – and those two aren't the only lots I've got either. That "Sandwich-Man" over there is mine – look at the work in those boards, and the nature in his clay pipe; and "The Boot-Black," that's mine, too – all worth twice what I got 'em for – and lovely things, too, ain't they?

      The A. S. Oh, very nice, very clever – congratulate you, I'm sure.

      Mr. M. I can see you've took a fancy to 'em, Sir, and, when I come across a gentleman that's a connysewer, I'm always sorry to stand in his light; so, see here, you can have any one you like out o' my little lot, or all on 'em, with all the pleasure in the wide world, Sir, and I'll on'y charge you five per cent. on what I gave for 'em, and be exceedingly obliged to you, into the bargain, Sir. (The A. S. feebly disclaims any desire to take advantage of this magnanimous offer.) Don't say No, if you mean Yes, Sir. Will you 'ave "The Pill-taker," Sir?

      The A. S. (politely). Thank you very much, but – er – I think not.

      Mr. M. Then perhaps you could do with "The Little Boot-Black," or "The Sandwich-Man," Sir?

      The A. S. Perhaps – but I could do still better without them.

[He moves to another part of the room

      The Obl. Broker (whispering beerily in his ear). Seen anythink yet as takes your fancy, Sir; 'cos, if so —

[The A. S. escapes to a dark corner – where he is warmly welcomed by Mr. Middleman

      Mr. M. Knew you'd think better on it, Sir. Now which is it to be – the "Boot-Black," or "Mixture as Before"?

      Auct. Now we come to Lot 19. Massive fluted column in coral marble with revolving-top – a column, Gentlemen, which will speak for itself.

      The Facetious Bidder (after a scrutiny). Then it may as well mention, while it's about it, that it's got a bit out of its back!

      Auct. Flaw in the marble, that's all. (To Assist.) Nothing the