Punch, or the London Charivari | Page 5

Ladies and Gentlemen--plenty of room for all. Take your time!
[_The crowd stream in, and pounce eagerly on chairs and telephones; the usual Fussy Family waste precious minutes in trying to get seats together, and get separated in the end. Undecided persons flit from one side to another. Gradually they all settle down, and stop their ears with the telephone-tubes, the prevailing expression being one of anxiety, combined with conscious and apologetic imbecility. Nervous people catch the eye of complete strangers across the table, and are seized with suppressed giggles. An Irritable Person finds himself between the Comic Man and a Chatty Old Gentleman.
The Comic Man (_to his Fianc��e, putting the tube to his ear_). Can't get my telephone to tork yet! (_Shakes it._) _I'll_ wake 'em up! (_Puts the other tube to his mouth._) Hallo--hallo! are you there? Look alive with that Show o' yours, Guv'nor--we ain't got long to stop! (_Pretends to listen, and reply._) If you give me any of your cheek, I'll come down and punch your 'ead! (_Applies a tube to his eye._) All right, POLLY, they've _begun_--I can see the 'ero's legs!
Polly. Be quiet, can't you? I can't hold the tubes steady if you will keep making me laugh so. (_Listening._) Oh, ALF, I can hear singing--can't you? Isn't it lovely!
_The Com. M._ It seems to me there's a bluebottle, or something, got inside mine--I can 'ear _im_!
_The Irr. P._ (_angrily, to himself_). How the deuce do they expect--and that infernal organ in the nave has just started booming again--they ought to send out and stop it!
_The Chatty O.G._ (_touching his elbow_). I beg your pardon, Sir, but can you inform me what opera it is they're performing at Manchester? The Prima Donna seems to be just finishing a song. Wonderful how one can hear it all!
_The Irr. P._ (_snapping_). Very wonderful indeed, under the circumstances! (_He corks both ears with the tubes_). It's too bad--now there's a confounded string-band beginning outs--(_Removes the tube._) Eh, what? (_More angrily than ever._) Why, it's in the blanked thing! (_He fumbles with the tubes in trying to readjust them. At last he succeeds, and, after listening intently, is rewarded by hearing a muffled and ghostly voice, apparently from the bowels of the earth, say_--"Ha, say you so? Then am I indeed the hooshiest hearsher in the whole of Mumble-land!")
_The Chatty O.G._ (_nudging him_). How very distinctly you hear the dialogue, Sir, don't you?
[_The Irritable Person, without removing the tubes, turns and glares at him savagely, without producing the slightest impression._
Another Ghostly Voice (_very audibly_). The devil you are!
A Careful Mother. MINNIE, put them down at _once_, do you hear? I can't have you listening to such language.
Minnie. Why, it's only at Manchester, Mother!
Ghostly Voices and Sounds (_as they reach the Irritable Person_). "You cursed scoundrel! So it was you who burstled the billiboom, was it? Stand back, there, I'll hork every gordle in his--!" (_... Sounds of a scuffle ... A loud female scream, and firing ..._) "What have you done?"
_The Ch. O.G._ Have you any sort of idea what he has done, Sir?
[_To the Irritable Person._
_The Irr. P._ No, Sir, and I'm not likely to have as long as--
[_He listens with fierce determination._
First Ghostly Voice. Stop! Hear me--I can explain everything!
_Second Do. Do._ I will hear _nothing_, I tell you!
_First Do. Do._ You shall--you _must_! Listen. I am the only surviving mumble of your unshle groolier.
_The Ch. O.G._ (_as before_). I think it must be a Melodrama and not an Opera after all--from the language!
An Innocent Matron (_who is listening, with her eyes devoutly fixed on the Libretto of "The Mountebanks," under the firm conviction that she is in direct communication with the Lyric Theatre._) I always understood The Mountebanks was a musical piece, my dear, didn't you? and even as it is, they don't seem to keep very close to the words, as far as I can follow!
Ghostly Voices (_in the Irritable Person's ear as before_). "Your _wife_?" "Yes, my wife, and the only woman in the world I ever loved!"
_The Irr. P._ (_pleased, to himself._) Come, now I'm getting accustomed to it, I can hear capitally!
The Voices. Then why have you--?...I will tell you all. Twenty-five years ago, when a shinder foodle in the Borjeezlers I--
A Still Small Voice (_in everybody's ear_). TIME, PLEASE.
Everybody (_dropping the tubes, startled._) Where did that come from?
_The Com. M._ They've been and cut it off at the main--just when it was getting interesting!
_His Fianc��e_. Well, I can't say I made out much of the plot myself.
_The Com. M._ I made out enough to cover a sixpence, anyhow. You didn't expect the telephone to explain it all to you goin' along, and give you cawfee between the Acts, did you?
_The Ch. O.G._ (_sidling affably up to the Irritable Person as