The Humorist
He pulled a long, narrow strip of yellow paper from his pocket and laid it open on the supper table. We studied it with deep interest. When we had finished, it was to turn to Georgie, and back again to the bill with horror. It read something like this:
Look out for the Original King's Own Cambrian Minstrels. The Programme Consists of First-Rate-Up-To-Date-Songs. All New Sayings. All New Doings. No Stale Business Introduced. The Artists Engaged Have Appeared, in all the Leading Places in England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. Don't Forget This Visit! Patrons Can Rely Upon a Programme Free from Vulgarity. First you Smile. Then you laugh. Finally you scream! Proprietor, Mr. Wallace Lappin.
Drusilla handed it back to him with perplexed eyes.
"Thank you," she said, "it's very interesting, but why does he want the people to scream? Do people scream in South Wales when they're pleased?"
"Was the weeping lady," I asked slowly,
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