known man, wearing a moustache, comes on to the stage and says: “Clara! Something unexpected has happened to me.” And an unknown lady approaches him with the words: “Whatever is that?”
“Wait a minute,” yells the producer, “Just switch off the lower light there. Add a bit of yellow. And why isn’t the sun shining through the window?”
“It is shining,” a voice calls from somewhere beneath the stage.
“Do you call that a sun? You must make it stronger! And do buck up about it!”
“Then we must use those two-thousand power lamps,” declares the subterranean voice.
“Well, for God’s sake, use them then.”
“But we can’t,” and on to the stage crawls a man in a white overall. “I told you, Mr. Perducer, they’d burnt out.”
The producer’s voice fairly quivers with fury: “Then, for Heaven’s sake, use some others.”
And he flies on to the stage where a row
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