(_A SKETCH AT MARGATE._)
_Close under the Parade Watt a large circle has been formed,
consisting chiefly of Women on chairs and camp-stools, with an
inner ring of small children, who are all patiently awaiting
the arrival of a troupe of Niggers. At the head of one of
the flights of steps leading up to the Parade, a small and
shrewish Child-nurse is endeavouring to detect and recapture
a pair of prodigal younger Brothers, who have given her the
slip._
_Sarah_ (_to herself_). Wherever can them two plegs have got to?
(_Aloud; drawing a bow at a venture_) ALBERT! 'ENERY! Come up 'ere
this minnit. _I_ see yer!
_'Enery_ (_under the steps--to Albert_). I say--d'ye think she
_do_?--'cos if--
_Albert_. Not she! Set tight. [_They sit tight._]
_Sarah_ (_as before_). 'ENERY! ALBERT! You've bin and 'alf killed
little GEORGIE between yer!
_'Enery_ (_moved, to Albert_). Did you 'ear that, BERT? It wasn't _me_
upset him--was it now?
_Albert_ (_impenitent_). 'Oo cares! The Niggers'll be back direckly.
_Sarah_. AL-BERT! 'ENERY! Your father's bin down 'ere once after you.
You'll _ketch_ it!
_Albert_ (_sotto voce_). Not till Father ketches _us_, we shan't. Keep
still, 'ENERY--we're all right under 'ere!
_Sarah_ (_more diplomatically_). 'ENERY! ALBERT! Father's bin and left
a 'ap'ny apiece for yer. Ain't yer comin' up for it? If yer don't want
it, why, stay where you are, that's all!
_Albert_ (_to 'Enery_). I _knoo_ we 'adn't done nothin'. An' I'm goin'
up to git that ap'ny, I am.
_'Enery_. So'm I. [_They emerge, and ascend the steps--to be pounced
upon immediately by the ingenious SARAH._
_Sarah_. 'Ap'ny, indeed! You won't git no 'apence _'ere, I_ can tell
yer--so jest you come along 'ome with me!
[Illustration: "Come to these legs!"]
[_Exeunt ALBERT and 'ENERY, in captivity, as the Niggers
enter the circle._
_Bones._ We shall commence this afternoon by 'olding our Grand Annual
Weekly Singing Competition, for the Discouragement of Youthful Talent.
Now then, which is the little gal to step out first and git a medal?
(_The Children giggle, but remain seated._) Not one? Now I arsk
_you_--What _is_ the use o' me comin' 'ere, throwin' away thousands
and thousands of pounds on golden medals, if you won't take the
trouble to stand up and sing for them? Oh, you'll make me so wild, I
shall begin spittin' 'alf-sovereigns directly--I _know_ I shall! (_A
little Girl in a sun-bonnet comes forward._) Ah, 'ere's a young lady
who's bustin' with melody, _I_ can see. Your name, my dear? Ladies
and Gentleman, I have the pleasure to announce that Miss CONNIE COCKLE
will now appear. Don't curtsey till the Orchestra gives the chord.
(_Chord from the harmonium--the Child advances, and curtsies with much
aplomb._) Oh, lor! call _that_ a curtsey--that's a _cramp_, that
is! Do it all over again! (_The Child obeys, disconcerted._) That's
_worse_! I can see the s'rimps blushin' for yer inside their paper
bags! Now see Me do it. (Bones _executes a caricature of a curtsey,
which the little Girl copies with terrible fidelity_.) That's
_ladylike_--that's genteel. Now sing _out! (The Child sings the first
verse of a popular Music-hall song, in a squeaky little voice._) Talk
about nightingales! Come 'ere, and receive the reward for extinguished
incapacity. On your knees! (_The little Girl kneels before him while
a tin medal is fastened upon her frock._) Rise, Sir CONNIE COCKLE! Oh,
you _lucky_ girl!
_The Child returns, swelling with triumph, to her companions,
several of whom come out, and go through the same performance,
with more or less squeakiness and self-possession._
_First Admiring Matron_ (_in audience_). I do like to see the children
kep' out o' mischief like this, instead o' goin' paddling and messing
about the sands!
_Second Ad. Mat._ Just what _I_ say, my dear--they're amused and
edjucated 'ow to beyave at the same time!
_First Politician_ (_with the "Standard"_). No, but look here--when
GLADSTONE was asked in the House whether he proposed to give the
Dublin Parliament the control of the Police, what was his answer?
Why....
_The Niggers_ (_striking up chorus_). "Rum-tumty-diddly-umpty-doodah
dey! Rum-tumty--diddly--um," was all that he could say! And
the Members and the Speaker joined together in the lay. Of
"Rum--tumty-diddly-umty doodah-dey!"
_Second Pol._ (_with the "Star"_). Well, and what more would you have
_'ad_ him say? Come, now!
_Alf._ (_who has had quite enough ale at dinner--to his fiancée_).
These Niggers ain't up to much, Loo. Can't sing for _nuts_!
_Chorley_ (_his friend--perfidiously_). You'd better go in and show
'em how, old man. Me and Miss SERGE'll stay and see you take the shine
out of 'em!
_Alf_. P'raps you think I can't. But, if _I_ was to go upon the 'Alls
now, I should make my fortune in no time! Loo's 'eard me when I've
been in form, and she'll tell you--
_Miss Serge_. Well, I will say there's many a professional might learn
a lesson from ALF--whether Mr. PERKINS believes it or not.
[_Cuttingly, to "CHOH-LEY."_
_Chorley_. Now reelly, Miss Loo, don't come down on a feller like
that. I want to see him do you credit, that's all, and he couldn't
'ave a better opportunity to distinguish himself--now _could_ he?
_Miss Serge_. _I'm_ not preventing him. But I don't know--these
niggers keep themselves very select, and they might object to it.
_Alf_. I'll soon square _them_. You keep your eye on me, and I'll make
things a bit livelier! [_He enters the Circle._
_Miss Serge_ (_admiringly_). He _has_ got a cheek, I must say! Look
at him, dancing there along with those two Niggers--they don't hardly
know what to make of him yet!
_Chorley_. Do you notice how they keep kicking him beyind on the sly
like? I wonder he puts up with it!
_Miss S._ He'll be even with them presently--you see if he isn't.
[ALF _attempts to twirl a tambourine on his finger, and lets
it fall; derision from audience_; Bones _pats him on the head,
and takes the tambourine away--at which_ ALF _only smiles
feebly._
_Chorley._ It's a pity he gets so 'ot dancing, and he don't seem to
keep in step with the others.
_Miss S._ (_secretly disappointed_). He isn't used to doing the
double-shuffle on sand, that's all.
_The Conductor_. Bones, I observe we have a recent addition to our
Company. Perhaps he'll favour us with a solo. (_Aside to Bones._) 'Oo
is he? 'Oo let him in 'ere--_you_?
_Bones_. _I_ dunno. I thought _you_ did. Ain't he stood nothing?
_Conductor_. Not a brass farden!
_Bones_ (_outraged_). All right, you leave him to me. (_To ALF._) Kin
it be? That necktie! them familiar coat-buttons! that paper-dicky! You
are--you _are_ my long-lost Convick Son, 'ome from Portland! Come to
these legs! (_He embraces ALF, and smothers him with kisses._) Oh,
you've been and rubbed off some of your cheek on my complexion--you
_dirty_ boy! (_He playfully "bashes" ALF's hat in._) Now show the
comp'ny how pretty you can sing. (_ALF attempts a Music-hall ditty,
in which he, not unnaturally, breaks down._) It ain't my son's fault,
Ladies and Gentlemen, it's all this little gal in front here, lookin'
at him and makin' him shy! (_To a small Child, severely._) You
oughter know _worse_, you ought! (_Clumps of sea-weed and paper-balls
are thrown at ALF, who by this time is looking deplorably warm and
foolish._) Oh, what a popilar fav'rite he is to be sure!
_Charley_ (_to Miss S._). Poor fellow, he ain't no match 'for those
Niggers--not like he is now! Hadn't I better go to the rescue, Miss
Loo?
_Miss S._ (_pettishly_). I'm sure I don't care _what_ you do.
[_"CHORLEY" succeeds, after some persuasion, in removing the
unfortunate ALF._
_Alf._ (_rejoining his fiancée with a grimy face, a smashed hat, and a
pathetic attempt at a grin_). Well? I _done_ it, you see!
_Miss S._ (_crushingly_). Yes, you _have_ done it! And the best thing
you can do now, is to go home and wash your face. _I_ don't care to
be seen about with a _laughing-stock_, I can assure you! I've had my
dignity lowered quite enough as it is!
_Alf_. But look 'ere, my dear girl, I can't leave you here all by
yourself, you know!
_Miss S._ I daresay Mr. PERKINS will take care of me.
[_Mr. P. assents, with effusion._
_Alf._ (_watching them move away--with bitterness_). I wish
all Niggers were put down by Act of Parliament, I do! Downright
noosances--that's what _they_ are!
* * * * *