News. May be, young sir, but Marge waved frantically; and the Babe crowed shrilly, and Uncle Philip deplored the fact that he had not had the sense to bring one himself.
We pray of your patience, gentles all, to retain your seats until the Principal Girl has married the Prince. She won't be long now, that good, brave girl. How she has done it we don't quite know; and remember, people, what British pluck has already done this afternoon, British pluck will have to do all over again this evening.
"Girl ought to be in bed," says Harley Street Physician in box, opposite Box B, to old college friend the house surgeon at Bart's. "She'll have a temperature if she isn't careful."
"She's given the house a temperature all right," said the house surgeon at Bart's, mingling refined humor with grave thoughts like the American judge at the funeral of his mother-in-law.
Kids staying of course for the end of it all. Details much too banal to inflict upon the overwrought patience of the gentle reader. But Father and Uncle Phil, lunchless and thirsty, patient and uncomplaining, though bored to tears, stand as ever at the back of Box B, at the post of duty. Whole-hoggers these upright citizens, though one was the eldest son of a peer and the other connected by marriage with several. But let jus-
