makes them put 7:30 in the paper for? The worst of theatres is that you can never—
A sound of moving bolts. A closing up in the ranks of the long line. A warning word from E 243. The song stops and the minstrels hurry forward to the moving crowd with their straw hats outstretched. It is too late. The crowd is so much engaged in feeling for its half-crowns and in keeping a steady eye on the gaping open doorway that it cannot trouble about any more gifts to entertainers.
“’Pon me bloomin’ oath,” says Tambourine with much annoyance, “if this ain’t jest like me nawsty luck!”
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