The Merry Past 



as a rule now very staid affairs, especially those fre- 

 quented by the minor lights of the chorus who have 

 a reputation for rigid prudery to maintain. 



" I don't know what I shall do," said one of these 

 damsels to her partner, " I've lost my latch-key." 

 " Take one of mine," jokingly replied the sprightly 

 spark, and he showed his key-ring on which a couple 

 hung. 



A terrific disturbance was the result of this re- 

 mark, at which the lady chose to take offence. Con- 

 sulting with her companions — dragons of virtue like 

 herself — it was decided that the monster who had 

 dared to speak in such a way was not worthy of being 

 permitted to remain at a chorus-girls' dance, and as 

 the ladies (who declared their reputations were at 

 stake) continued obdurate, the too dashing blade 

 was eventually requested by friends to retire, this 

 being the only way to save the evening from being 

 entirely spoilt. The whole incident is highly illus- 

 trative of the curious and fiery prudery which 

 has of late years overwhelmed the lesser lights of the 

 stage. 



Whilst the ladies of the past were anything but 

 prudes, a good many of them were well able to ex- 

 hibit determination whenever circumstances seemed 

 to call for its display. 



Lady Cahir, for instance, being at the theatre in 

 Paris shortly after the destruction of the Bastille, was 

 very free in conversation, which much annoyed some 

 rich contractors, who with their womenfolk were 

 sitting close by. 



277 



