Puppets at Large Part 17

[_MISS S. accepts this tribute with complacency._

MRS. FLITT. A skirt-dance will be the very thing. It's sure to please the people we shall bring over for it--and of course they'll be in the front rows. Yes, I must put _that_ down. We ought to have a song next.

Mrs. Tuberose, you promised to come and sing for us--you will, won't you?

MRS. TUBEROSE. Delighted! I rather thought of doing a dear little song Stephan Otis has just brought out. It's called "_Forbidden Fruit_," and he wrote it expressly for me. It goes like this.

[_She sits down at the piano, and sings, with infinite expression and tenderness._

"Only the moon espies our bliss, Through the conscious cl.u.s.ters of clematis, Shedding star-sweet showers.

To-morrow the world will have gone amiss-- Now I gaze in your eyes, love, I thrill to your kiss-- So let us remember naught but this: That To-night is ours!

Yes, this pa.s.sionate, perilous, exquisite night-- Is Ours!"

SEVERAL VOICES. Charmin'.... Otis puts so much real feeling into all his songs ... quite a little gem! &c., &c.

LADY DAMP. I should have thought myself that it was rather advanced--for an East-End audience--

MRS. TUBEROSE (_nettled_). Really, dear Lady Dampier, if people see nothing to object in it _here_, I don't see why they should be more particular at the East-End!

MRS. FLITT. Oh, no,--and as if it matters what the _words_ are in the song. I daresay if one heard _their_ songs----Now we want another song--something as different as possible.

MR. GARDINIER. Heard a capital song at the "Pav." the other night--something about a c.o.c.k-eyed Kipper. Just suit my voice. I could easily get the words and music, and do that for you--if you like.

SEVERAL VOICES. A c.o.c.k-eyed Kipper! It sounds too killing! Oh, we _must_ have that!

LADY DAMP. Might I ask what kind of creature a--a "c.o.c.k-eyed Kipper" may be?

MR. GARD. Oh, well, I suppose it's a sort of a dried herring--with a squint, don't you know.

LADY DAMP. I see no humour in making light of a personal deformity, I must say.

MR. GARD. Oh, don't you? _They_ will--it'll go with a scream there!

MISS DIOVA ROSE. Yes, poor dears--and we mustn't mind being just a little vulgar for once--to cheer them up.

LADY HONOR. I have been to the Pavilion and the Tivoli myself, and I heard nothing to object to. I know I was much more amused than I ever am at theatres--_they_ bore me to death.

MR. BAGOTRIX. We might finish up with _Mrs. Jarley's Waxworks_, you know. Some of you can be the figures, and I'll come on in a bonnet and shawl as _Mrs. Jarley_, and wind you up and describe you. I've done it at lots of places in the country; brought in personal allusions and all that sort of thing, and made everybody roar.

LADY DAMP. But will the East-Enders understand your personal allusions?

MR. BAG. Well, you see, the people in the front rows will, which is all _I_ want.

LADY HONOR (_suspiciously_). Isn't _Mrs. Jarley_ out of _Pickwick_, though? That's d.i.c.kens, surely!

MR. BAG. (_rea.s.suringly_). Nothing but the name, Lady Honor. I make up all the patter myself, so that'll be all right--just good-natured chaff, you know; if anybody's offended--as I've known them to be--it's no fault of mine.

MRS. FLITT. Oh, I'm sure you will make it funny,--and about getting someone to preside--I suppose we ought to ask the Vicar of the nearest church?

LADY HONOR. Wouldn't it be better to get somebody--a--more in Society, don't you know?

MRS. FLITT. And he might offer to pay for hiring the Hall, and the other expenses. I never thought of that. I'll see whom I can get. Really I think it ought to be great fun, and we shall have the satisfaction of feeling we are doing real good, which is such a comfort!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

BOOKMAKERS ON THE BEACH.

A SKETCH AT A SEA-SIDE RACE MEETING.

_The Sands at Baymouth, where some pony and horse races are being run.

By the Grand Stand, and under the wall of the esplanade, about a dozen bookmakers, perched on old packing-cases, are clamouring with their customary energy. The public, however, for some reason seems unusually deaf to their blandishments and disinclined for speculation, and the bookmakers, after shouting themselves hoa.r.s.e with little or no result, are beginning to feel discouraged._

BOOKMAKERS (_antiphonally_). Evens on the field! Three to one bar one!

Five to one bar two! Six to one bar one! Even money _Beeswing_! Six to one _Popgun_! Come on 'ere. Two to one on the field! What do you want to _do_?

[_The public apparently want to look another way._

FIRST BOOKMAKER (_to SECOND BOOKMAKER_). Not much 'ere to-day! Shawn't get no roast baked and biled this journey, eh?

SECOND B. (_with deep disgust_). They ain't _got_ no money! Baymouth's going down. Why, this might be a bloomin' Sunday-school treat! Blest if I believe they know what we're 'ere _for_!

THIRD B. (_after pausing to refresh himself, sardonically to FOURTH BOOKMAKER_). De-lightful weather, William!

WILLIAM (_in a similar tone of irony_). What a glorious day, Percy! Sech a treat to see all the people enjoyin' theirselves without any o' the silly speculation yer _do_ find sometimes on occasions like this! (_He accepts the bottle his friend pa.s.ses, and drinks._) 'Ere's better luck to all!

FIFTH B. (_pathetically_). Don't leave your little Freddy out! (_They don't leave their little FREDDY out._) Cheer up, William, there's 'appier days in store; there'll be Jersey comin' soon. We'll be orf to the sunny south! (_To a stranger who comes up to him._) Why, Uncle, you don't say it's you! How _well_ you're looking! Shake 'ands and 'ave a bit on, jest for ole sake's sake! (_The stranger proceeds to introduce himself as the Secretary, and to demand a fee._) What! pay you five shillins for standin' 'ere wastin' my time and voice like this? Not me!

Why, I ain't took two blessed sorcepans since I bin 'ere! (_The Secretary remains firm._) I won't do it, my boy. Not on _prinserple_, I won't. I wouldn't give you five shillins not if your tongue was 'anging down on to your boots--so there! (_The Secretary does not attempt so violent an appeal to his better nature, but calls a police-inspector._) 'Ere, I'd sooner git down and chuck the show altogether; jest to mark my contempt for such goings on! (_He descends from his box; takes down his sign, unscrews his pole, folds up his professional triptych, and departs in a state of virtuous indignation only to be expressed by extreme profanity, while the Secretary proceeds unmoved to collect payments from the others; who eventually compromise the claims for half-a-crown._)

MR. SAM SATCh.e.l.l (_"from Southampton"_). Now then, you gentlemen and aristocratic tradesmen, where _are_ you all? Don't any o' you know _anything_? Come on 'ere. (_He stops an elderly rustic._) You've got a fancy, I can see! (_The rustic denies the impeachment, grinning._) Git along with yer, yer artful ole puss, then, and don't keep gentlemen away as wants to bet! (_To a Yeomanry trooper._) Come along, my ole soldier-boy, give it a name! (_His old soldier-boy declines to give it any name, and pa.s.ses on._) Call yerself a warrior bold, and afraid o'

riskin' 'alf-a-crown! Why, yer Queen and country orter be ashamed o'

yer! (_As a young farmer in riding-gaiters comes up, with the evident_ _intention of business._) Ah, _you_ don't forget the old firm, I see....

What, four to one not good enough for you? You won't get no better odds, go where you _like_! I suppose you expeck me to make you a present o'

the money? (_The farmer moves on._) I dunno what's _come_ to 'em all.

_I_ never see nothing like it in all _my_ life!

_In the Grand Stand._

A GLIB PERSON, _in a tall hat_ (_as he picks his way up and down the benches, the occupants of which treat him with intolerant indifference_). I'm not a bookmaker, ladies and gentlemen; don't have that impression of me for a moment! I'm simply an amateur, and an independent gentleman o' means, like any of yourselves. You all know more than _I_ do. I don't come 'ere with any intention o' winning your money--far from it. I'm wishful to settle and live among you. I may eventually put up as your member; and, if so, when I take my place in Parliament I shall be in a position to testify that the Baymouth people are extremely cautious as to the manner in which they invest their money on 'orse-racing'! Yes, I'm 'ere on beyarf of the Sporting League, just to prove how free a meeting like this is from the evils o' gambling. I don't come 'ere to _rob_ yer. I want yer all to win. I like to see yer bright and shining faces around me; I like the friverolity and reckereation and the conviverality of the thing, that's all. I'll tell yer how it is. I've a rich ole aunt, and she puts fifty pound into my 'ands, and sez, "Jacky," she sez, "I love those dear Baymouth people, and I want you to take this 'ere money and lay it out among 'em in moieties, and make 'em rich and 'appy." You can see for yourselves. I've no tickets and no parryfernalia, excep' this little pocket-book, where I enter any bets you honour me with. Come, Miss win a pair o' those three-and-sixpenny gloves at Chickerell's, the ex-Mayor's, to oblige _me_! Did I tread on your corn, Sir? I a.s.sure you it was the last thing I intended.... "You knew I'd do it afore I'd done?"... Well, Sir, if you've sech a gift o' seeing into futoority as that, why not make something out of it now? Three to one bar one. _Kitty I'm_ barring.

Thank _you_, Sir; 'alf-a-crown to seven and six on _Sportsman_. I tell you candidly--you've got the winner. The favourite won't win. Now, then, all you others, where's your Baymouth pluck? I orfered you thirty to one _Beeswing_ last race; and you wouldn't take it. And _Beeswing_ won, and you lost the chance o' making yer fortunes. Don't blame _me_ if the same thing 'appens again. I'm on'y bettin', as I told you, for my own amus.e.m.e.nt, and to get rid o' the money! (_&c._, _&c._)

MR. SAM SATCh.e.l.l (_whom the apathy of the public has apparently reduced to a state of defiant buffoonery_). Even money _Daredevil_, you rascals!

And why the blazes don't ye take it? Come on. I'll take two little bits o' twos that _Kitty_ don't win! Four to one against ole bread-and-b.u.t.ter _Tommy_, over there in the corner! Eleven and a 'alf to three quarters to two against _Kitty_. "What har the Wild Waves say-hay-ing?" Two _Kitties_ to three _Daredevils_ against a bloomin' goat-chaise? On the Baymouth Durby I'm bettin'!