Listen to them--do listen to them, dear Mrs Ottley.' They listened to the beautiful words sung, of which the refrain ran as follows:-- 'The Author told the Actor, (The Actor had a fit).
The Box Office man told the Programme-girl, The Theatre all was in quite a whirl.
The call-boy told the Chorus.
(Whatever could it be ?) The super asked the Manager, What did the Censor see ?' 'Charming,' murmured Lady Everard; 'brilliant--I know his father so well.' 'Whose father--the censor's ?' 'Oh, the father of the composer--a very charming man.

When he was young he used to come to my parties--my Wednesdays.

I used to have Wednesdays then.

I don't have Wednesdays now.

I think it better to telephone at the last minute any particular day for my afternoons because, after all, you never know when the artists one wants are disengaged, does one?
You're coming on Wednesday to hear Paul La France sing, dear Mrs Ottley ?' Edith smiled and nodded assent, trying to stop the incessant trickle of Lady Everard's leaking conversation.