"Show me to myself?" gasped Mr. Henshaw.

Mr. Stokes winked. "On account o' the surprising likeness," he said,
smiling. "It is surprising, ain't it? Fancy the two of us sitting there
and talking to her and waiting for you to come in and wondering what's
making you so late!"

Mr. Henshaw regarded him steadfastly for some seconds, and then, taking
a firm hold of his mug, slowly drained the contents.

"And what about my voice?" he demanded, with something approaching a
sneer.

"That's right," said Mr. Stokes, hotly; "it wouldn't be you if you
didn't try to make difficulties."

"But what about it?" said Mr. Henshaw, obstinately.

"You can alter it, can't you?" said the other.

They were alone in the bar, and Mr. Henshaw, after some persuasion, was
induced to try a few experiments. He ranged from bass, which hurt his
throat, to a falsetto which put Mr. Stokes's teeth on edge, but in vain.
The rehearsal was stopped at last by the landlord, who, having twice
come into the bar under the impression that fresh customers had entered,
spoke his mind at some length. "Seem to think you're in a blessed
monkey-house," he concluded, severely.

"We thought we was," said Mr. Stokes, with a long appraising sniff, as