packing!

_Male Spectator_ (_to a Woman in front of him_). Evening, Mrs.
MIDGELLY--I see they've got your good man up on the platform.

_Mrs. M._ He _will_ go, Mr. BUDKIN! He's gone up every night the
'Ipnotiser's been here, and says he feels it's going to do him good.
So this evening I said I'd come in too, and judge for myself. What
good he expects to get, laying there like a damp dishclout, _I_ don't
know!

[_Meanwhile the Hypnotist has borrowed a silver-handled
umbrella from the audience, and thrust it before the faces of
one or two loutish-looking youths, who immediately begin to
squint horribly and follow the silver-top with their noses,
till they knock their heads together._

_Mr. Budkin_ (_to Mrs. MIDGELLY_). He's going to give your husband a
turn of it now.

[_The umbrella-handle is applied to Mr. M., a feeble-looking
little man with a sandy top-knot; he grovels after the
silver-top when it is depressed, and makes futile attempts to
clamber up the umbrella after it when it is held aloft._

_Mrs. M._ (_severely_). I haven't patience to look at him. A _Kitten_
'ud have had more sense!

_The Hyp._ (_calling up one of the heavy youths_). Can you whistle,
Sir? Yes? Then whistle something. (_The Youth whistles a popular air