SCENE VIII.--_The Station Yard at Shuntingbridge.

_Lady Cant._ (_from the interior of the Wyvern omnibus, testily, to_ Footman). What are we waiting for _now_? Is my maid coming with us--or how?

_Footman._ There's a fly ordered to take her, my lady.

_Lady Cant._ (_to_ SPURRELL, _who is standing below_). Then it's _you_ who are keeping us!

_Spurr._ If your ladyship will excuse me, I'll just go and see if they've put out my bag.

_Lady Cant._ (_impatiently_). Never mind about your bag. (_To_ Footman.) What have you done with this gentleman's luggage?

_Footman._ Everything for the Court is on top now, my lady.

[_He opens the door for_ SPURRELL.

_Lady Cant._ (_to_ SPURRELL, _who is still irresolute_). For goodness' sake don't hop about on that step! Come in, and let us start.

_Lady Maisie._ _Please_ get in--there's _plenty_ of room!

_Spurr._ (_to himself_). They _are_ chummy, and no mistake! (_Aloud, as he gets in._) I do hope it won't be considered any intrusion--my coming up along with your ladyships, I mean!

_Lady Cant._ (_snappishly_). Intrusion! I never heard such nonsense! Did you expect to be asked to _run behind_? You really mustn't be so ridiculously modest. As if your _Andromeda_ hadn't procured you the _entrée_ everywhere!

[_The omnibus starts._

_Spurr._ (_to himself_). Good old Drummy! No idea I was such a swell. I'll keep my tail up. Shyness ain't one of _my_ failings. (_Aloud to an indistinct mass at the further end of the omnibus, which is unlighted._) Er--hum--pitch dark night, my lady, don't get much idea of the country! (_The mass makes no response._) I was saying, my lady, it's too dark to----(_The mass snores peacefully._) Her ladyship seems to be taking a snooze on the quiet, my lady. (_To_ Lady MAISIE.) (_To himself._) Not that _that_'s the word for it!

_Lady Maisie_ (_distantly_). My Mother gets tired rather easily. (_To herself._) It's really too dreadful; he makes me hot all over! If he's going to do this kind of thing at Wyvern! And I'm more or less _responsible_ for him, too! I _must_ see if I can't----It will be only kind. (_Aloud, nervously._) Mr.--Mr. BLAIR!

_Spurr._ Excuse me, my lady, not _BLAIR_--SPURRELL.

_Lady Maisie._ Of course, _how_ stupid of me. I knew it wasn't _really_ your name. Mr. _SPURRELL_, then, you--you won't mind if I give you just one little hint, _will_ you?

_Spurr._ I shall take it kindly of your ladyship, whatever it is.

_Lady Maisie_ (_more nervously still_). It's really such a trifle, but--but, in speaking to Mamma or me, it isn't at all necessary to say 'my lady' or 'your ladyship.' I--I mean, it sounds rather, well--_formal_, don't you know!

_Spurr._ (_to himself_). She's going to be chummy now! (_Aloud._) I thought, on a first acquaintance, it was only manners.

_Lady Maisie._ Oh--manners? yes, I--I daresay--but still--but still--_not_ at Wyvern, don't you know. If you like, you can call Mamma 'Lady CANTIRE,' and me 'Lady MAISIE,' and, of course, my Aunt will be 'Lady CULVERIN,' but--but if there are other people staying in the house, you needn't call them _anything_, do you see?

_Spurr._ (_to himself_). I'm not likely to have the chance! (_Aloud._) Well, if you're sure they won't _mind_ it, because I'm not used to this sort of thing, so I put myself in your hands,--for, of course, _you_ know what brought me down here?

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). He means my foolish letter! Oh, I must put a stop to _that_ at once! (_In a hurried undertone._) Yes--yes; I--I think I do. I mean, I _do_ know--but--but _please_ forget it--_indeed_ you must!

_Spurr._ (_to himself_). Forget I've come down as a vet? The CULVERINS will take care I don't forget that! (_Aloud._) But, I say, it's all very well; but how _can_ I? Why, look here; I was told I was to come down here on purpose to----.

_Lady Maisie_ (_on thorns_). I know--you needn't tell me! And _don't_ speak so loud! _Mamma_ might hear!

_Spurr._ (_puzzled_). What if she did? Why, I thought her la--your Mother _knew_!

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). He actually thinks I should tell Mamma! Oh, how _dense_ he is! (_Aloud._) Yes--yes--of _course_ she knows--but--but you might _wake_ her! And--and please don't allude to it again--to me or--or anyone. (_To herself._) That I should have to beg him to be silent like this! But what can I _do_? Goodness only knows _what_ he mightn't say, if I don't warn him!

_Spurr._ (_nettled_). I don't mind _who_ knows. _I'm_ not ashamed of it, Lady MAISIE--whatever you may be!

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, exasperated_). He dares to imply that _I_'ve done something to be ashamed of! (_Aloud; haughtily._) I'm _not_ ashamed--why _should_ I be? Only--oh, can't you _really_ understand that--that one may do things which one wouldn't care to be reminded of publicly? I don't _wish_ it--isn't _that_ enough?

_Spurr._ (_to himself_). I see what she's at now--doesn't want it to come out that she's travelled down here with a vet! (_Aloud, stiffly._) A lady's wish is enough for _me_ at anytime. If you're sorry for having gone out of your way to be friendly, why, I'm not the person to take advantage of it. I hope I know how to behave.

[_He takes refuge in offended silence._

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). Why did I say anything at all! I've only made things worse--I've let him see that he _has_ an advantage. And he's certain to use it sooner or later--unless I am civil to him. I've offended him now--and I shall _have_ to make it up with him!

_Spurr._ (_to himself_). I thought all along she didn't seem as chummy as her mother--but to turn round on me like this!

_Lady Cant._ (_waking up_). Well, Mr. ANDROMEDA, I should have thought you and my daughter might have found _some_ subject in common; but I haven't heard a word from either of you since we left the station.

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). That's _some_ comfort! (_Aloud._) You must have had a nap, Mamma. We--we _have_ been talking.

_Spurr._ Oh yes, we _have_ been talking, I can assure you--er--Lady CANTIRE!

_Lady Cant._ Dear me. Well, MAISIE, I hope the conversation was entertaining?

_Lady Maisie._ M-most entertaining, Mamma!

_Lady Cant._ I'm quite sorry I missed it. (_The omnibus stops._) Wyvern at last! But _what_ a journey it's been, to be sure!

_Spurr._ (_to himself_). I should just think it had. I've never been so taken up and put down in all my life! But it's over now; and, thank goodness, I'm not likely to see any more of 'em!

[_He gets out with alacrity._

* * * * *

* * * * *

MRS. R. has often had a cup of tea in a storm, but she cannot for the life of her see how there can possibly be a storm in a tea-cup.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE COREAN COCK-FIGHT.

["Russia's love of peace is outweighed by her duty to safeguard her vital interests, which would seriously suffer were Japan or China to modify the present state of things in Corea."--_Official Russian view of the Corean situation, given by "Daily Telegraph" Correspondent at St. Petersburg._]

BRUIN, _loquitur_.

"Duty to safeguard my interests?" Quite so! Nice way of putting it, yes, and so _moral_! Yet I love Peace! Pity game-cocks will fight so! Disfigures their plumes and their combs' healthy "coral." Big Cochin-China and Bantam of Jap Feel at each other they _must_ have a slap. _Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o!!!_ Humph! I must keep a sharp eye on the two!

Peace, now! She _is_ such a loveable darling! Goddess I worship in rapt contemplation. Spurring and crowing, and snapping and snarling, Wholly unworthy a bird--or a nation! Still there is Duty! I have an idea Mine lies in watching this fight in Corea. _Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o!!!_ BULL yonder looks in a bit of a stew!

Some say my destiny pointeth due North, Ice-caves are all very well--for a winter-rest. But BRUIN'S fond of adventuring forth; In the "Far East" he feels quite a warm interest; BULL doesn't like it at all. But then BULL Fancies that no one should feed when _he_'s full! _Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o!!!_ I am still hungry, and love chicken-stew!

To make the Corea a cock-pit, young Jappy, May suit you, or even that huge Cochin-China; But--fighting you know always makes _me_ unhappy. I feel, like poor _Villikins_ robbed of his _Dinah_, As if I could swallow a cup of "cold pison."-- But--still--these antagonists I _must_ keep eyes on. _Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o!!!_ Cockfighting _is_ cruel,--but stirring fun, too!

_Duty_, dear boys! Ah! there's nothing like Duty. Gives one "repose"--like that Blacksmith of LONGFELLOW! Go it, young Jap! That last drive was a beauty. But--your opponent's an awfully strong fellow. Little bit slow at first, sluggish and lumbering, But when he makes a fair start there's no slumbering. _Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o!!!_ Sakes! How his new steel spurs shone as he flew!

Now, should I stop it, or should I take sides? BULL and the other onlookers seem fidgety! Cochin strikes hard, but indulges in "wides"; Game-cock _is_ game--though a little mite midgety. Well, whate'er the end be, and whichever win, I _think_ the game's mine, when I choose to cut in. _Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o!!!_ I'm safe for a dinner--off _one_ of the two!

[_Left considering and chortling._

* * * * *

THE WAR CRY.

(_Dedicated (without permission) to the Pioneer Club_)

Rouse ye, ye women, and flock to your banners! War is declared on the enemy, Man! If we can't teach him to better his manners, We'll copy the creature as close as we can! No longer the heel of the tyrant shall grind us. Rouse ye and rally! The despot defy! And the false craven shall tremble to find us Resolved to a woman to do or to die.

_Chorus._

Then hey! for the latchkey, sweet liberty's symbol! Greet it, ye girls, with your lustiest cheer! Away with the scissors! Away with the thimble! And hey nonny no for the gay Pioneer!

Why should we writhe on a clumsy side-saddle Designed on a most diabolical plan? Women! submit ye no longer! Ride straddle, And jump on the corns of your enemy, Man! Storm the iniquitous haunts of his pleasure, Leave him to nurse the dear babes when they fret, Dine at St. James' in luxurious leisure, And woo the delights of the sweet cigarette!

Look to your latchkeys! The whole situation Upon the possession of these will depend. Use them, ye women, without hesitation, And dine when ye will with a gentleman friend. Man's a concoction of sin and of knavery-- Women of India, China, Japan! Rouse ye, and end this inglorious slavery! Down with the tyrant! Down, down with the Man!

* * * * *

THE BANK HOLIDAY DREAM BOOK.

(_Compiled by our Pet Pessimist._)

If you imagine that it will be fine, and consequently that you can don the lightest of attire, you may be sure that it will be cold and wet, and absolutely unsuitable to travelling.

If you fancy that you will enjoy a delightful visit to some intimate friends, you will find that you have had your journey to a spot "ten miles from anywhere" for nothing, as your intended hosts have gone abroad for the season.

If you believe that you are seeing a favourite piece being played admirably at a West End theatre, you will discover that the programme was altered four days ago, and that the temple of the drama will not reopen until the autumn.

If you arrange to go abroad with a friend, you will quarrel with your acquaintance on the following morning, and disarrange your plans for a lifetime.

Lastly, if you dream that you have decided to give up gadding about on a bank holiday to remain at home, you will see that it is better to follow your fancy, and avoid the risk of making a mistake by adventuring to strange places and pastures new.

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* * * * *

IN SHEER DELIGHT.

(_A Surrey Rondel._)

In sheer delight I sing the country's praise. The town no longer takes me day or night. 'Mid scented roses one should loll and laze In sheer delight.

The corn fields unto harvest glisten white, In pastures lowing kine contented graze. _Per_ train (South-Eastern) now to wing his flight No lover of the Surrey side delays. My own case you suggest? Of course you're right. Which p'r'aps explains why I to spend my days In Shere delight!

* * * * *

"SORTES AQUATICÆ"; OR, MAXIM FOR THE MAIDENHEAD REGATTA.--After a rattling race with KILBY of Staines (who was worn to a standstill), and COHEN of Maidenhead (who pitched overboard), VERITY of Weybridge easily retained the Upper Thames Single Punting Championship. Why, cert'n'ly! What says the old Latin saw? _Magna est Veritas, et prævalebit!_ Which (obviously) means:--Great is VERITY, and he shall prevail!

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LORD ORMONT'S MATE AND MATEY'S AMINTA.

BY G***GE M*R*D*TH.