er growing tall, and perhaps this system
of training had produced in the infant phenomenon these additional
phenomena.

While this short dialogue was going on, the gentleman who had enacted
the savage, came up, with his walking shoes on his feet, and his
slippers in his hand, to within a few paces, as if desirous to join in
the conversation. Deeming this a good opportunity, he put in his word.

'Talent there, sir!' said the savage, nodding towards Miss Crummles.

Nicholas assented.

'Ah!' said the actor, setting his teeth together, and drawing in his
breath with a hissing sound, 'she oughtn't to be in the provinces, she
oughtn't.'

'What do you mean?' asked the manager.

'I mean to say,' replied the other, warmly, 'that she is too good for
country boards, and that she ought to be in one of the large houses in
London, or nowhere; and I tell you more, without mincing the matter,
that if it wasn't for envy and jealousy in some quarter that you know
of, she would be. Perhaps you'll introduce me here, Mr Crummles.'

'Mr Folair,' said the manager, presenting him to Nicholas.

'Happy to know you, sir.' Mr Folair touched the brim of his hat with his
forefinger, and then shook hands. 'A recruit, sir, I understand?'

'An unworthy one,' replied Nicholas.

'Did you ever see such a set-out as that?' whispered the actor, drawing
him away, as Crummles left them to speak to his wife.

'As what?'

Mr Folair made a funny face from his pantomime collection, and pointed
over his shoulder.

'You don't mean the infant phenomenon?'

'Infant humbug, sir,' replied Mr Folair. 'There isn't a female child of
common sharpness in a charity school, that couldn't do better than that.
She may thank her stars she was born a manager's daughter.'

'You seem to take it to heart,' observed Nicholas, with a smile.

'Yes, by Jove, and well I may,' said Mr Folair, drawing his arm through
his, and walking him up and down the stage. 'Isn't it enough to make a
man crusty to see that little sprawler put up in the best business every
night, and actually keeping money out of the house, by being forced
down the people's throats, while other people are passed over? Isn't
it extraordinary to see a man's confounded family conceit blinding him,
even to his own interest? Why I KNOW of fifteen and sixpence that came
to Southampton one night last month, to see me dance the Highland Fling;
and what's the consequence? I've never been put up in it since--nev