'honnoor de vous sooayter le bong jour! (_Floats, with no apparent
support, in the air, and performs various graceful evolutions,
concluding by reversing herself completely_). Bong swore, Mesdarms
et messures, mes remercimongs!

[_She dives below, and the Curtain descends._

_The F.S._ Is that all? I don't see nothing in _that_!

_Her Comp._ (_who, having paid for admission, resents this want of
appreciation_). Why, she was off the ground the 'ole of the time,
wasn't she? I'd just like to see _you_ turnin' and twisting about
in the air as easy as she did with nothing to 'old on by!

_The F.S._ I didn't notice she was off the ground--yes, that _was_
clever. I never thought o' that before. Let's go and see the other
things now.

_Her Comp._ Well, if you don't see nothing surprising in 'em till
they're all over, you might as well stop outside, _I_ should ha'
thought.

_The F.S._ Oh, but I'll notice more next time--you've got to get
_used_ to these things, you know.

[_They enter the Mystic Gallery, and find themselves in a
dim passage, opposite a partitioned compartment, in which
is a glass case, supported on four pedestals, with a silver
crescent at the back. The Illusions--to judge from a sound
of scurrying behind the scenes--have apparently been taken