The Head (plaintively).  Don’t neglect a man as is doing his best to please yer, gen’l’men! (A soft-hearted Bystander takes a shot at him, out of sheer compassion, and misses.) Try agen, Sir.  I ain’t ’ere to be idle!

A Sharp Little Girl (presiding over a sloping Chinese Billiard-board).  Now, my dears—­(To a group of boys, of about her own age)—­’ave what yer like.  A penny a pull, and a prize every time!  Wherever the marble rolls, you ’ave any one article on the board!

[Illustration:  “Now then, play up, all o’ yea—­ar-har!”]

    [One of the boys pays a penny, and pulls a handle, propelling
    a marble, which, after striking a bell at the top of the
    slope, wobbles down into a compartment.

The Boy (indicating a gorgeous china ornament on the board).  I’ll ‘ave one o’ them—­to take ’ome to mother.

The S.L.G. (with pitying superiority).  No, my boy, you can go to a shop and buy one o’ them for sixpence if you like—­but ’ere you must ’ave what you git!

    [She awards him a very dingy lead-pencil, with which he
    departs, abashed, and evidently revolving her dark saying in
    his perplexed mind.

Proprietor of a Box-pitching Saloon. One penny a ball!  For hevery ball that goes in the boxes, you choose any prize you like! (With sorrow and sympathy, to a female Competitor.) Too ’ard, Lady, too ’ard! (To a male Comp., whose ball has struck the edge of the box, and bounced off.) Very near, Sir!

    [Several Competitors expend penny after penny unsuccessfully,
    and walk away, with a grin of entire satisfaction.

Joe (landing a ball in one of the boxes, after four failures).  I told ‘ee I’d get waun in! (To his Young Woman.) What are ye goin’ to ’ave, MELIA?

Melia (hovering undecidedly over a glittering array of shell-boxes, cheap photograph-albums and crockery).  I’ll take one o’—­no, I won’t neither....  I really don’t know what to ’ave!

Joe (with masculine impatience).  Well, go on—­take summat, can’t ye! (MELIA selects a cup and saucer, as the simplest solution of the problem.) I doan’t carl that mooch of a show for fippence, I doan’t.  Theer, gi’ us ’old on it. [He stows the china away in his side-pockets.

Melia. You took an’ ’urried me so—­else I don’t know as I fancied a cup and sarcer so partickler.  I wonder if the man ’ud change it, supposin’ we was to go back and ast ’im!