f in comic opera. I am sure a comic opera built round a
woman would be a really great success. Don't you agree with me, Mr.
Kelver," pouted the leading lady, laying her pretty hand on mine. "We
are much more interesting than the men--now, aren't we?"

Personally, as I told her, I agreed with her.

The tenor, sipping tea with me on the balcony, beckoned me aside.

"About this new opera," said the tenor; "doesn't it seem to you the
time has come to make more of the story--that the public might prefer a
little more human interest and a little less clowning?"

I admitted that a good plot was essential.

"It seems to me," said the tenor, "that if you could write an opera
round an interesting love story, you would score a success. Of course,
let there be plenty of humour, but reduce it to its proper place. As a
support, it is excellent; when it is made the entire structure, it is
apt to be tiresome--at least, that is my view."

I replied with sincerity that there seemed to me much truth in what he
said.

"Of course, so far as I am personally concerned," went on the tenor,
"it is immaterial. I draw the same salary whether I'm on the stage five
minutes or an hour. But when you have a man of my position in the cast,
and give him next to nothing to do--well, the public are disappointed."

"Most naturally," I commented.

"The lover," whispered the tenor, noticing the careless approach towards
us of the low comedian, "that's the character they are thinking about
all the time--men and women both. It's human nature. Make your lover
interesting--that's the secret."

Waiting for the horses to be put to, I became aware of the fact that I
was standing some distance from the others in company with a tall, thin,
somewhat oldish-looking man. He spoke in low, hurried tones, fearful
evidently of being overheard and interrupted.

"You'll forgive me, Mr. Kelver," he said--"Trevor, Marmaduke Trevor. I
play the Duke of Bayswater in the second act."

I was unable to recall him for the moment; there were quite a number of
small parts in the second act. But glancing into his sensitive face, I
shrank from wounding him.

"A capital performance," I lied. "It has always amused me."

He flushed with pleasure. "I made a great success some years ago," he
said, "in America with a soda-water syphon, and it occurred to me that
if you could, Mr. Kelver, in a natural sort of way, drop in a small part
leading up to a little business with a soda-w