Chapter II

(_The Ophir Gold Pantomime Syndicate issues its Preliminary
Instructions for the Production of its Annual Pantomime._)

PRELIMINARY INSTRUCTIONS.

O.G.P.S. 42/B/26.

_November 20th_, 1919.

1. _General Outline_.

It is the intention of the Ophir Gold Pantomime Syndicate to attack and capture the Public Favour on the night of the 26/27 December, 1919.

As foreshadowed in the preliminary Press Notices (which will be issued later) the production will outstrip all previous productions both in wit and splendour.

The Preliminary Bombardment will be carried out by Press Agents of all calibres.

The General Scheme will be as laid down in the West-End Managers' Standard Formation of Pantomimes.

Zero time will probably be at 7 P.M.

If the operation is successful it will be repeated daily until further (fortnight's) notice, and every endeavour will be made to exploit the success to the full.

2. _Advertisements_.

No opportunity for advertisement will be neglected.

Advance Agents will reconnoitre the ground thoroughly and secure the best hoardings available.

The Leading Lady will lose her jewels not later than 4 P.M. on December 22nd. "Q." will arrange for the necessary publicity.

3. _Chorus_.

Will consist of One Section Blondes and Brunettes, One Section Petites and One Section "Stunners" (_see_ Standard Formation, para. 3a). Category "B" will be at the back. Category "B" of last year's Chorus will be transferred to the Pantomime Employment Company.

4. _Scenery_.

The S.E. (Scenic Engineers) will co-operate by improvising new scenery out of last year's production as far as possible.

5. _Discipline._

The stage-manager will be responsible for the strictest discipline being maintained during performances, and will put up a barrage of invective at the slightest signs of slackness.

6. _Intelligence_.

Ground observers will be sent out to note the effect of the comedians' gags upon the audience. They will report any impropriety at once to the Manager, who will at once take steps to improve upon it.

7. _Police_.

Special Mounted Police will assist the doorkeeper to collect all stragglers at the Stage Door and will cause them to be returned to their paternal units (if their credentials are not satisfactory).

8. _Dressing-rooms_.

Disputes over dressing-rooms will be arranged between the artistes concerned.

9. _Artistes._

The Fairy Queen will be specially employed to create a diversion while the Palace Scene is being set behind.

The Demon King will put a few heavies across in the Grotto Scene.

The Eight Aerial Girlies (under the direction of the O.C. Flying Corps de Ballet) will make a personal reconnaissance of the front rows of the Stalls in "The Fairies' Bower" Scene.

The eyes of the Chorus will be worn in the "alert" position during performances.

10. _Principals_.

Artistes will submit for approval not later than the 10th December the details of their songs and dances. Comedians will also submit their "gags" and comic scenes for blue-pencilling. This is merely a matter of form and the strictest secrecy as to their real intentions will be preserved in order that the principle of "springing it on one another" should be maintained.

If twenty people are found in the bar during a comedian's turn he is liable to summary dismissal.

Cross-talk Machine Fun Fire will be under direction of O.C. Gags.

11. _Music_.

Choruses and incidentals will be original. That is to say, they will be taken from last year's MSS. and the crotchets moved up one space and the quavers down one space.

12. _Rehearsals_.

A hot meal will be served after midnight rehearsals and taxis will be provided for those who care to pay for them. "Q" will arrange.

13. _The Audience_.

Hostile retaliation is not anticipated, but arrangements will be made to deal summarily with any counterattack. O.C. Chuckers-Out will arrange.

14. _Organisation_.

The goodwill and earnest co-operation of all are solicited to achieve the success which will be advantageous to all, especially to the philanthropic Directors, who are poor men and cannot really afford it.

_Issued at 4 p.m._

Copies to:--

All Concerned.

(Signed) Etc., etc., etc.

* * * * *

HAVE YOU WATCHED THE FAIRIES?

Have you watched the fairies when the rain is done
Spreading out their little wings to dry them in the sun?
I have, I have! Isn't it fun?

Have you heard the fairies all among the limes
Singing little fairy tunes to little fairy rhymes?
I have, I have, lots and lots of times.

Have you seen the fairies dancing in the air
And dashing off behind the stars to tidy up their hair?
I have, I have; I've been there!

* * * * *

WAR THE REJUVENATOR.

"Rear-Admiral Sims ... is 59 years old and will be 53 next
October."--_Saturday Evening Post_.

* * * * *

"Miss ---- played the other works mentioned also, but while
Miss ---- can play these better than most--by far--she brings
the purest of fresh-air feeling into her playing of Bach's 'O
Si Sic Omnes.'"--_Daily Telegraph_.

What we want to hear is OFFENBACH'S _Mens sana in corpore sano._

* * * * *

"A personal experience in a large office not 1,000 miles
from where the bombs fell. Not a sign of panic; hardly even
of alarm."--_The Globe_.

We have heard of places not even 10 miles away where equal intrepidity was displayed.

* * * * *

"UNIVERSITY OF BRISTOL CONTINGENT O.T.C.

Recruiting--Suitable candidates for admission should be under
the age of 7 years and 6 months, except in the case of former
members of a junior contingent."--_Bristol Evening News_.

The result of Baby Week at Bristol.

* * * * *

General VON BLUME says America's intervention is no more than "a straw." But which straw? The last?

* * * * *

LITTLE WILLIE. "THIS MAY BE FUN FOR FATHER, BUT IT WON'T SUIT ME."]

* * * * *

_Friend_. "IT'S NOT A NEW POTATO. YOU'VE SHOWN IT TO ME THREE TIMES ALREADY."]

* * * * *

PHILIP.

Philip is the morose but rather dressy foreigner who resides in a cage on the verandah. Miss Ropes, who owns him and ought to know, says he is a Grey Cardinal, but neither his voracious appetite for caterpillars nor his gruesome manner of assimilating them are in the least dignified or ecclesiastical. It takes the unremitting efforts of Miss Ropes and the entire available strength of convalescent officers (after deducting the players of bridge, the stalkers of rabbits and the jig-saw squad) to supply Philip with a square meal.

Recently a caterpillar famine began to make itself felt in the parts of the garden near the house, and the enthusiasm of the collectors evaporated at the prospect of searching farther afield.

Ansell was the first to cry off.

"I'm sorry, Miss Ropes," he said firmly, "but I have an instinctive antipathy to reptiles."

"They aren't--they're insects."

"In that case," he replied still more firmly, "the shrieks of the little creatures when Philip gets 'em rend my heartstrings. I don't think the doctor would approve."

Haynes suggested that Philip's behaviour savoured of unpatriotism, and that the one thing needful was the immediate appointment of a caterpillar controller. Miss Ropes countered this by electing herself to the post, and declaring that the supply was adequate to meet all demands, as soon as the regrettable strike of transport-workers was settled.

"Don't you think," I said, "that it would be very much nicer--for Philip--if he were allowed to forage for himself? We had a bullfinch once who spent his days in the garden and always came back to the cage at night."

This apposite though untrue anecdote obviously impressed the lady, but she decided that Philip was too precious to be made the subject of experiment. The transport-workers then returned to their labours, under protest.

However, a day or two later Fate played into our hands. Miss Ropes herself inadvertently left the cage door open, and Philip escaped. The entire establishment devoted the day to his pursuit, without success; but in the evening the truant, dissipated and distended, lurched into his cage of his own accord and went instantly to sleep.

Encouraged by his return and by the regular habits of my hypothetical bullfinch, Miss Ropes let him out again next day. This time he did not come back.

"Probably he's sleeping it off somewhere," said Haynes cheerfully. "He'll be back to-morrow."

However he wasn't. Miss Ropes had his description posted up in the village, and next day a telephone message informed us that a suspicious red-headed character answering to the specification was loitering near the "Waggon and Horses," and was being kept under observation. Miss Ropes and Haynes went off to arrest him, but hardly had they disappeared down the drive when Philip in person appeared on the lawn.

This gave our handy man, James, his chance. James simply loves to make himself useful. If anybody wants anything done he can always rely on James to do it by a more complicated method and with more trouble to himself than the ordinary man could conceive. His education is generally understood to have consisted of an exhaustive study of the "How-To-Make" column in the _Boys' Own Paper_, completed by a short course of domestic engineering under Mr. W. HEATH ROBINSON.

We first knew that he had undertaken the case when we heard his voice excitedly telling us not to move. Naturally we all turned to look at him. He had got a butterfly net from somewhere and was lying flat on his tummy and whistling seductively an alleged imitation of Philip's usual remark. Philip, about thirty yards away, was eyeing him with contempt.

Suddenly James gathered his limbs beneath him, sprang up, galloped ten yards and flung himself down again, panting loudly. Philip, surprised and alarmed, took refuge in a tree, whereupon James abandoned the stalk (blaming us for having frightened Philip away) and retired to think of another scheme.

Soon he reappeared with some pieces of bamboo and a square yard of white calico, sat down solemnly in the verandah and began to sew.

"Is it a white flag? Are you going to parley with him, or what?" asked Ansell.

"Trap," replied James shortly.

We watched with silent interest while he got more and more entangled in his contrivance.

"I hope Philip'll know how to work the machine," said I, "because I'm sure I shouldn't."

At last it was finished, and James took it out and set it. He disguised it (rather thinly) with half-a-dozen oak leaves and baited it with a lot of caterpillars, and retired behind a tree with the end of a long piece of string in his hand.

"When Philip walks up to the trap," he explained, "he starts eating the caterpillars. I pull the string, and he is caught in the calico. It's called a bow-net."

He waited patiently for an hour-and-a-half, except for a short break while he rounded up the caterpillars, who, not knowing the rules, had walked away. Then we took the luncheon interval; scores, James (in play) 0; Philip 0.

"I don't see," said Ansell soon after the resumption, "why poor old James should do all the work. Let's all help."

We began by posting an appeal in prominent spots about the grounds:--

PHILIP--If this should meet the eye of. Return to your
sorrowing family, when all will be forgotten and forgiven
and no questions asked.

Next we festooned the estate with helpful notices, such as "This way to the Trap -->" and "Caterpillar Buffet first turn to Left." One of the peacocks was observed to be reading this last with great interest, so we added a few more notices for the special benefit of unauthorised food-hogs: "Free List Suspended until Further Notice," and "Eat Less Worm."

At tea-time Philip was still holding coldly aloof. But while we were indoors Bennett, the gardener, caught him by some simple artifice beneath James's notice. I found him putting the truant back in his cage.

"Don't do that, Bennett," I said. "Put him in Mr. James's trap. He's had a lot of trouble making that trap, and it's a pity to waste it."

Bennett grinned a toothless grin at me and did some dialect, which I understood to mean that I might do as I liked, but that he (Bennett) was not going to catch no more birds for us.

Hardly had I put Philip in the trap when James emerged.

"Good Lord!" he shouted, "it's done it! He's in!"

He dashed on to the lawn, wild with joy. Probably it was the first time any of his devices had succeeded.

"Aha, my beauty," he cried, slipping his hand under the calico. "We've got you safe, have we?"

We had not. There was a flash of red and grey, and the outraged Philip, minus a tail feather, sought the sanctuary of the woods.

He is still absent without leave at the time of writing.

* * * * *

_Mike_ (_confidentially_). "FAITH, BUT THEY'RE A DEAD FAILURE, SORR. WHY, THREE WEEKS I'VE BEEN ON THIM TANKS AND NIVER WAN HAS RIZ OFF THE GROUND YET."]

* * * * *

FURTHER REMINISCENCES.

(_WITH ACKNOWLEDGMENTS TO MR. GEORGE R. SIMS_).

We come now to the beginning of the sixties. I well remember, early in the summer of one of them, Gentleman Dick--we called him this because his father had been a tramp, and, although he scarcely justified the maternal strain (his mother had been a washerwoman), he was certainly to all appearances his father's son--rushing in to tell me that "Blue Satin," the prize bull bitch belonging to the proprietor of that well-known tavern--public-houses were scarcely known in those days--"The Seven Sisters," had given birth to a son.

This was an opportunity too good to be missed, and in spite of the bitter cold I hurried off with Gentleman Dick, who already had acquired no small reputation for his dexterity in hanging on to the backs of cabs, and ultimately secured "Albert the Good." If I had to christen a pup now I should naturally call him "Jellicoe the Brave." "Albert the Good" scarcely lived up to his name and eventually I had to get rid of him. He bit a piece out of a constable's leg. Sir J---- B----, the presiding magistrate at Bow Street, was most charming about it however, and gave me a seat on the bench during the constable's evidence.

I remember it especially because it was the day following this I was in at the death, when Ebenezer Smith, the Mayfair murderer, came to his end. He made an excellent breakfast of ham and eggs just before his execution, the Governor was good enough to tell me, and was collected enough even to grumble at the age of one of the eggs.