“Well—no offence, you Ladies, as has growed up!—these two girls was enjoyin’ themselves over Mrs. Haliday and the mash she had set up on Mortimer. They didn’t see that I was sitting on a stage box behind a built-out piece of the Prologue of the panto., which was set ready for night. They were both in love with Mortimer, who wouldn’t look at either of them, so they was miaw’n cruel, like cats on the tiles. Says one:

“ ‘The Old Man seems worse than blind; he won’t see.’

“ ‘Don’t you be too sure of that,’ says the other. ‘He don’t mean to take no chances. I think you must be blind, too, Kissie.’ That was her name—on the bills anyhow, Kissie Mountpelier. ‘Don’t he make a point of taking her home hisself every night after the play. You should know, for you’re in the hall yourself waiting for your young man till he comes from his club.’

“ ‘Wot-ho, you bally geeser,’ says the other—which her language was mostly coarse—‘don’t you know there’s two ends to everything? The Old Man looks to one end only!’ Then they began to snigger and whisper; and presently the other one says:

“ ‘Then he thinks harm can be only done when work is over!’

“ ‘Jest so,’ she answers. ‘Her and him knows that the old man has to be down long before the risin’ of the rag; but she doesn’t come in till the Vision of Venus dance after half time; and he not till the harlequinade!’

Then I quit. I didn’t want to hear any more of that sort.

“All that week things went on as usual. Poor old Haliday wasn’t well. He looked worried and had a devil of a temper. I had reason to know that, for what worried him was his work. He was always a hard worker, and the panto. season was a terror with him. He didn’t ever seem to mind anything else outside his work. I thought at the time that that was how those two chattering girls made up their slanderous story; for, after all, a slander, no matter how false it may be, must have some sort of beginning. Something that seems, if there isn’t something that is! But no matter how busy he might be, old Jack always made time to leave the wife at home.

“As the week went on he got more and more pale; and I began to think he was in for some sickness. He generally remained in the theatre between the shows on Saturday; that is, he didn’t go home, but took a high tea in the coffee shop close to the theatre, so as to be handy in case there might be a hitch anywhere in the preparation for night. On that Saturday he went out as usual when the first scene was set, and the men were getting ready the packs for the rest of the scenes. By and bye there was some trouble—the usual Saturday kind—and I went off to tell him. When I went into the coffee shop I couldn’t see him. I thought it best not to ask or to seem to take any notice, so I came back to the theatre, and heard that the trouble had settled itself as usual, by the men who had been quarrelling going off to have another drink. I hustled up those who remained, and we got things smoothed out in time for them all to have their tea. Then I had my own. I was just then beginning to feel the responsibility of my business, so I wasn’t long over my food, but came back to look things over and see that all was right, especially the trap, for that was a thing Jack Haliday was most particular about. He would overlook a fault for anything else; but if it was along of a trap, the man had to go. He always told the men that that wasn’t ordinary work; it was life or death.