"But that's the age of the children who go to pantomimes," I
suggested.

"Well, it's different in your own home," he said. "Besides," he added,
"it isn't children I aim at in my jokes. There's other things for
them: the fairy ballets, the comic dog."

"And what is the audience you aim at?" I asked. "I suppose there is
one definite figure you have in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," he said, "there is one. The person in the audience that I
always aim at is the silly servant-girl in the front row of the
gallery. That's why I so often say 'girls' before I make a joke.
You've heard me, haven't you?"

"Haven't I?" I groaned.

* * * * *

THE GAME LICENCE.

It was yesterday afternoon, towards the close of the last beat of our
annual cover shoot, that I perceived a fellow in a yellow waterproof
popping up his head from time to time (at no little risk to his life)
over a dyke some way behind the line of guns. As soon as the beaters
came out he advanced and introduced himself as an Excise Officer,
asking "if this would be a convenient moment to examine the game
licences of the party."

It was not at all a convenient moment for Walter--who hadn't got one.