saw the man 'ung at all!

_His Companion_. Put in another penny, and p'raps you'll see him cut
down, old chap.

BEFORE THE FAIRY FORTUNE-TELLER'S GROTTO.

_Susan Jane_ (_to her Soldier_.) Oh, ain't that pretty? I should like
to know what _my_ fortune is. [_She feels in her pocket._

_The Soldier_ (_who disapproves of useless expenditure_). Ain't you
put in enough bloomin' pennies?

_Susan Jane_. This is the last. (_Reads Directions_.) Oh, you've got
to set the finger on the dial to the question you want answered, and
then put your penny in. What shall I ask her?

_Soldier_. Anyone would think you meant to go by the answer, to hear
you talk!

_Susan Jane_. P'raps I do. (_Coquettishly, as she sets the index to a
printed question._) Now, you mustn't look. I won't 'ave _you_ see what
I ask!

_Soldier_ (_loftily_). _I_ don't want to look, I tell yer--it's
nothing to me.

_Susan Jane_. But you _are_ looking--I saw you. [_A curious and deeply
interested crowd collects around them._

_Soldier_. Honour bright, I ain't seen nothing. Are you going to be
all night over this 'ere tomfoolery?

[_SUSAN JANE puts in a penny, blushing and tittering; a faint
musical tinkle is heard from the case, and the little fairies
begin to revolve in a solemn and mystic fashion; growing
excitement of crowd. A pasteboard bower falls aside, revealing
a small disc on which a sentence is inscribed._

_Person in Crowd_ (_reading slowly over SUSAN JANE's shoulder_).
"Yus; 'e is treuly worthy of your love."

_Crowd_ (_delighted_). That's worth a penny to know, _ain't_ it, Miss?
_Your_ mind's easy now! It's the soldier she was meanin'. Ah,_'e_
ought to feel satisfied too, after that! &c., &c. [_Confusion of
SUSAN JANE._

_Soldier_ (_as he departs with S.J._). Well, yer know, there's
something _in_ these things, when all's said!

IN DEPARTING.

_A Pleased Pleasure-seeker_. Ah, that's something like, that is! I've
seen the 'Aunted Miser, and the Man with the 'Orrors, and a Execution,
and a Dyin' Child--they do make you _larf_, yer know!

_Second P.P._ Yes, it's a pity the rest o'the Exhibition ain't more
the same style, to my thinking!

_A Captious Critic_. Well, they don't seem to me to 'ave much to do
with anything _naval_.

_His Companion_. Why, it comes under machinery, don't it? You're so
bloomin' particular, you are! Wouldn't touch a glass o' beer 'ere,
unless it was brewed with salt-water, I suppose! Well,