he now protested, "do let us understand each other. Have I ever
mentioned the word 'stage'? Have I? No. Your stage is nothing to
me; it doesn't come into the matter at all. Do what you like on the
stage, but let me tackle the front of the house. That's the real
battle-ground. My scheme, which I bring to you first of all, because
I think of you as the least unenlightened of all London managers, is
concerned solely with the audience. Will you promise not to mention
it for a week if I unfold it to you?"

The manager promised.

"Very well," said the other, settling down to business, "Let us begin
by looking at audiences. What are they made of? Human beings. What
kind of human beings? The nobs and the mob. What is the favourite
occupation of the nobs? Recognising other nobs. What comes next?
Seeing who the other nobs have got with them. What is the favourite
occupation of the mob? Identifying nobs and saying how disappointed
they are with their appearance. Isn't that so?"

"More or less," said the manager.

"Very well," the other continued. "Now, then, what do you do for the
audiences in your theatre between the Acts?"

"There is an excellent orchestra," said the manager.

"I have heard it," replied his visitor drily. "Most of the music
played is composed by the conductor, who conducts with the bow of
his violin. No, Sir, that is not enough to do for an audience in the
intervals. I warn you that the whole question of intervals will come