or
_I'll_ surprise you!"

At that moment the rising curtain revealed a cinematograph scene,
representing a bull-dog which stole a mutton chop, was at once pursued
by a policeman and the village population, rushed down streets and round
corners, leapt through a lawyer's office, ran up the side of a house,
followed by all his pursuers, and was finally discovered in a child's
cot, where the child, with one arm round his neck, was endeavouring to
make him say grace before meat. The audience was profoundly moved. Cries
of "Bless his 'eart!" and "Good old Ogden!" rang through the house.

"Great!" said the big man.

"It illustrates," replied Mr. Clarkson, "the popular sympathy with the
fugitive, combined with the public's love of vicarious piety."

"Fine dog," said the sportsmanly Albert.

"It was a clever touch," Mr. Clarkson agreed, "to introduce so hideous a
creature immediately before a Beauty Show. The strange thing is that the
dog's ugliness only enhanced the sympathetic affection of the audience.
Yet beauty leads us by a single hair."

"You wait before you start talkin' about beauty or hair either!" said
Albert.

The curtain then rose upon a long green-baize table placed at the back
of the stage. Behind it were sitting eleven respectable and portly
gentlemen in black coats. One in the centre, venerable for gold
eye-glasses and grey side-whiskers, acted as chairman.

"Are those the beauties?" asked Mr. Clarkson ironically, recalling the
Garden Suburb discussion as to the superiority of the masculine form.

"'Ear that, Albert?" said the big man again. "Judges," he added, in
solemn pity.

"On what qualification are they selected as critics?" Mr. Clarkson
asked.

"Give prizes," said the big man.

"That qualifies them for Members of Parliament rather than judges of
beauty," said Mr. Clarkson, but he was shown that on the table before
each judge stood a case of plated articles, a vase, a candlestick, or
something, which he had contributed as a prize.

An authoritative person in a brown suit and a heavy watch-chain
festooned across his waistcoat came forward and was greeted with
applause, varied by shouts of "Bluebeard!" "Crippen!" and "Father
Mormon!" In the brief gasps of silence he explained the rules of the
competition, remarking that the entries were already unusually numerous,
the standard of beauty exceptionally high and accordingly he called upon
the audience by their applause or the reverse to give t