LITMIR.BIZ

      ‘THE MINUET WAS TOM’S GREATEST TRIUMPH’

      And now the hour of departure drew near. The pit was thinning and the boxes empty, and pale rays of morning light were glinting into the hall when the box-opener, who was going her rounds, heard sounds of snoring proceeding from one of the stage boxes. She opened the door, and there was Tom, who, tired out after his eventful night, had fallen fast asleep on the floor. The box-opener stepped in and politely hinted that it was six o’clock and time to go home.

      ‘Grrooonnn,’ said Tom.

      ‘I hear you,’ said the box-opener; ‘you’re asleep, my good man, but you’ll sleep better still in your own bed. Come, come, your wife must be getting quite anxious! Upon my word I don’t believe he hears a word I say. How heavily he sleeps!’ And she shook him by the shoulder.

      ‘Grrrooonnn!’

      ‘All right, all right! This isn’t a time to make believe. Besides, we all know you. There now, they’re putting out the lights. Shall I send for a cab for you?’

      ‘Grrroooonnn.’

      ‘Come, come, the Odéon Theatre isn’t an inn; come, be off! Oh, that’s what you’re after, is it? Fie, Monsieur Odry, fie! I shall call the guard; the inspector hasn’t gone to bed yet. Ah, indeed! You won’t obey rules! You are trying to beat me, are you? You would beat a woman—and a former artiste to M. Odry, would you? For shame! But we shall see. Here, help—police—inspector—help!’

      ‘What’s the matter?’ cried the fireman on duty.

      ‘Help!’ screamed the box-opener, ‘help!’

      ‘What’s the matter?’ asked the sergeant commanding the patrol.

      ‘Oh, it’s old mother what’s her name, shrieking for help in one of the stage boxes.’

      ‘Coming!’ shouted the sergeant.

      ‘This way, Mr. Sergeant, this way,’ cried the box-opener.

      ‘All right, my dear, here I am. But where are you?’

      ‘Don’t be afraid; there are no steps—straight on this way—he’s in the corner. Oh, the rascal, he’s as strong as a Turk!’

       ‘Grrrooonnn,’ said Tom.

      ‘There, do you hear him? Is that to be called a Christian language?’

      ‘Come, come, my friend,’ said the sergeant, who had at last managed to distinguish Tom in the faint twilight. ‘We all know what it is to be young—no one likes a joke better than I do—but rules are rules, and the hour for going home has struck, so right about face, march! and quick step too.’

      ‘Grrrooonnn’—

      ‘Very pretty; a first-rate imitation. But suppose we try something else now for a change. Come, old fellow, step out with a good will. Ah! you won’t. You’re going to cut up rough, are you? Here, my man, lay hold and turn him out.’

      ‘He won’t walk, sergeant.’

      ‘Well, what are the butt ends of your muskets for? Come, a tap or two will do no harm.’

      ‘Grrrooonnn—Grrrooonnn—Grrrooonnn—’

      ‘Go on, give it him well!’

      ‘I say, sergeant,’ said one of the men, ‘it strikes me he’s a real bear. I caught hold of him by the collar just now, and the skin seems to grow on the flesh.’

      ‘Oh, if he’s a real bear treat him with every consideration. His owner might claim damages. Go and fetch the fireman’s lantern.’

      ‘Grrrooonnn.’

      ‘Here’s the lantern,’ said a man; ‘now then, throw some light on the prisoner.’

      The soldier obeyed.

      ‘It is certainly a real snout,’ declared the sergeant.

      ‘Goodness gracious me!’ shrieked the box-opener as she took to her heels, ‘a real live bear!’

      ‘Well, yes, a real live bear. Let’s see if he has any name or address on him and take him home. I expect he has strayed, and being of a sociable disposition, came in to the Masked Ball.’

       ‘Grrrooonnn.’

      ‘There, you see, he agrees.’

      ‘Hallo!’ exclaimed one of the soldiers.

      ‘What’s the matter?’