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make an
    appropriate reply to this observant man and demand how the devil he knew he was from the country, the man told him: "Oh ... Oh you needn't get on your high horse, mister," he said; "I've seen 'em all.
    But none of your townees would come four times in a week an' sit in the front row. No; by the second night they would have had a cab at the door an' flowers sent to her dressing-room. Oh, they're all the
    same, London, Manchester, or here. I've seen 'em all," he boasted again; but then his tone changing, he said, " Anyway, I'm sorry I can't let on where she's stayin', not even for a backhander. "
    "I wasn't thinking about giving you a backhander. And seeing that you've weighed me up, and everybody else apparently His words were cut off by the opening of the swing door to his right and through it the appearance of an enormous woman and a very small man, each of them carrying two dogs and each dog enveloped in a red flannel coat.
    The woman, ignoring Ward, spoke directly to the doorman, "That bugger won't do that to us again. Put us on in the first half. We know our place. We should be third from last by now. I'll have something to say to him at the end of the week. A year now since we first hit
    Newcastle, and it'll be ten before we hit it again."
    When one of the dogs in her arms moved uneasily and turned its head towards Ward while giving a sharp bark, she turned her attention to him, saying, "It's all right, mister; as long as you don't touch her she won't bite you."
    But Ward had already put his hand out and was scratching the immaculate white topknot of the poodle, and the poodle, instead of biting him, was licking his wrist, the sight of which brought an exclamation from the small man in a voice that was so high as to seem to be issuing from the mouth of a young boy: "Flora! Flora! Did you ever! Do you see what Sophia's doing?"
    The large woman, looking straight at Ward now, said, "You used to animals, mister? Trainer or something?"
    He was forced to smile as he answered, "No; no; but I have two dogs of my own."
    "Poodles?"
    "No. Sheep dogs. I'm ... I'm a farmer."
    "Oh. Oh." She now said pointedly, "Bitches?"
    He was still smiling as he answered her: "One of each."
    "Well, all I can say she must have got a sniff of something that pleased her, because she's very particular, is Sophia."
    Ward looked at Sophia. He recognised her as the clever one that pulled the little bottle out of the man's coat, withdrew the cork with her teeth, and then, standing on her hindlegs, put the bottle to her mouth; after which she staggered across the stage to the uproarious laughter of the audience, fell on her back and kicked her legs in the air, to be chastised by this woman, who picked her up, smacked her bottom and sent her off the stage, only for the dog to come slinking in the other side, supposedly unknown to anyone.
    The woman was addressing him now: "Have you seen the show, sir?"
    "Yes; I've seen the show."
    She now leaned towards him, to peer in the dim light of the passage.
    Then, her mouth opening into a big gape and the smile spreading across her face, she exclaimed, "Oh yes! The front row. The front row."
    Rather shamefacedly now, Ward nodded and said, "Yes; the front row."
    "To see Stephanie."
    Before he had time to acknowledge this, the doorman put in, "This ..
    this gentleman ... This gentleman came to see Miss McQueen the night, but was very disappointed that she wasn't on."
    "Oh. Oh." The woman's head was now bobbing up and down.
    "Well, I'm sorry you've had your journey for nothing, sir; but she had an accident, you see. Saturday night just gone. He let her down too quickly." She now turned her head and addressed the doorman: "He's a bloody maniac, that Watson," she said.
    "He's never sober. I'm not against a drink, you know that, Harry, but there's a time an' a place for it. And she's as light on her feet as a feather. But he bounced her down. She slotted off that foot like a rubber ball."
    "Is she in a bad way?"