“By God, I could have sworn this was the Duke! But, Danford, do you never commit such solecisms?”
“No, very rarely.” Danford shook his head knowingly, and over his thin lips flitted that indefinable smile for which he was so renowned on the boards. “But there you are, you have not made a special study of human physiognomy, and have not through hard plodding acquired that sense of observation, that keenness of perception, that we have, for you have had no need to retain the facial grimaces and queer movements of individuals. To-day the Music Halls are closed and we are broke, but in this wreckage, we artists have saved our precious faculty of memorising. The profession has therefore decided to make a new move; this morning I saw the manager of the Tivoli, who asked me to be the intermediary between the profession and the aristocracy—of which, my lord, you are one of the strongest columns. This state of things looks as if it were going to last, and as we cannot prevent it we must boom it.”
“I follow you, Danford, and am curious to know what you will propose as a remedy.”
“Well, my lord, I advise that we artists, men and women, should open in every district of London Schools of Observation, in which the art of memorisation will be taught, and prizes will be given to pupils who recognise the most faces in one hour. I myself believe that Society will not easily learn that art; for it has so long relied on outward signs to guide it in the recognition of folks, that its faculties are warped, and it will take us all our time to pull Society through this difficulty. Then a special branch should be started at once, or else the aristocracy will sink into the deep waves of oblivion. We must all—I mean the Music Hall variety artists—accept engagements for dinner-parties, receptions, afternoon teas; in fact, for every entertainment where more than two are gathered, and act as social guides. To give you a sample of what I can do, my lord, I propose to take a stroll with you along the favourite thoroughfares of town; not at present, for London will turn in for luncheon very soon, but between six and seven o’clock we can meet again.”
“Are you sure, Danford, that we shall find anyone out at that time?”