Part 81 (2/2)

So I thought the flowers I'd go and see to pa.s.s away the night.

And when I got into that Show it was a curious sight.

So with your kind intention and a little of your aid, Tonight some flowers I'll mention which I hope will never fade.'

Omnes: To-night some flowers I'll mention which I hope will never fade.'

There were several more verses, from which it appeared that the princ.i.p.al flowers in the Show were the Rose, the Thistle and the Shamrock.

When he had finished, the applause was so deafening and the demands for an encore so persistent that to satisfy them he sang another old favourite--'Won't you buy my pretty flowers?'

'Ever coming, ever going, Men and women hurry by, Heedless of the tear-drops gleaming, In her sad and wistful eye How her little heart is sighing Thro' the cold and dreary hours, Only listen to her crying, ”Won't you buy my pretty flowers?”'

When the last verse of this sang had been sung five er six times, Philpot exercised his right of nominating the next singer, and called upon d.i.c.k Wantley, who with many suggestive gestures and grimaces sang 'Put me amongst the girls', and afterwards called upon Payne, the foreman carpenter, who gave 'I'm the Marquis of Camberwell Green'.

There was a lot of what music-hall artists call 'business' attached to his song, and as he proceeded, Payne, who was ghastly pale and very nervous, went through a lot of galvanic motions and gestures, bowing and sc.r.a.ping and sliding about and flouris.h.i.+ng his handkerchief in imitation of the courtly graces of the Marquis. During this performance the audience maintained an appalling silence, which so embarra.s.sed Payne that before he was half-way through the song he had to stop because he could not remember the rest. However, to make up for this failure he sang another called 'We all must die, like the fire in the grate'. This also was received in a very lukewarm manner by the crowd, same of whom laughed and others suggested that if he couldn't sing any better than that, the sooner HE was dead the better.

This was followed by another Tory ballad, the chorus being as follows:

His clothes may be ragged, his hands may be soiled.

But where's the disgrace if for bread he has toiled.

His 'art is in the right place, deny it no one can The backbone of Old England is the honest workin' man.'

After a few more songs it was decided to adjourn to a field at the rear of the tavern to have a game of cricket. Sides were formed, Rushton, Didlum, Grinder, and the other gentlemen taking part just as if they were only common people, and while the game was in progress the rest played ring quoits or reclined on the gra.s.s watching the players, whilst the remainder amused themselves drinking beer and playing cards and shove-ha'penny in the bar parlour, or taking walks around the village sampling the beer at the other pubs, of which there were three.

The time pa.s.sed in this manner until seven o'clock, the hour at which it had been arranged to start on the return journey; but about a quarter of an hour before they set out an unpleasant incident occurred.

During the time that they were playing cricket a party of glee singers, consisting of four young girls and five men, three of whom were young fellows, the other two being rather elderly, possibly the fathers of some of the younger members of the party, came into the field and sang several part songs for their entertainment. Towards the close of the game most of the men had a.s.sembled in this field, and during a pause in the singing the musicians sent one of their number, a shy girl about eighteen years of age--who seemed as if she would rather that someone else had the task--amongst the crowd to make a collection. The girl was very nervous and blushed as she murmured her request, and held out a straw hat that evidently belonged to one of the male members of the glee party. A few of the men gave pennies, some refused or pretended not to see either the girl or the hat, others offered to give her some money for a kiss, but what caused the trouble was that two or three of those who had been drinking more than was good for them dropped the still burning ends of their cigars, all wet with saliva as they were, into the hat and d.i.c.k Wantley spit into it.

The girl hastily returned to her companions, and as she went some of the men who had witnessed the behaviour of those who had insulted her, advised them to make themselves scarce, as they stood a good chance of getting a thras.h.i.+ng from the girl's friends. They said it would serve them dam' well right if they did get a hammering.

Partly sobered by fear, the three culprits sneaked off and hid themselves, pale and trembling with terror, under the box seats of the three brakes. They had scarcely left when the men of the glee party came running up, furiously demanding to see those who had insulted the girl. As they could get no satisfactory answer, one of their number ran back and presently returned, bringing the girl with him, the other young women following a little way behind.

She said she could not see the men they were looking for, so they went down to the public house to see if they could find them there, some of the Rushton's men accompanying them and protesting their indignation.

The time pa.s.sed quickly enough and by half past seven the brakes were loaded up again and a start made for the return journey.

They called at all the taverns on the road, and by the time they reached the Blue Lion half of them were three sheets in the wind, and five or six were very drunk, including the driver of Cra.s.s's brake and the man with the bugle. The latter was so far gone that they had to let him lie down in the bottom of the carriage amongst their feet, where he fell asleep, while the others amused themselves by blowing weird shrieks out of the horn.

There was an automatic penny-in-the-slot piano at the Blue Lion and as that was the last house of the road they made a rather long stop there, playing hooks and rings, shove-ha'penny, drinking, singing, dancing and finally quarrelling.

Several of them seemed disposed to quarrel with Newman. All sorts of offensive remarks were made at him in his hearing. Once someone ostentatiously knocked his gla.s.s of lemonade over, and a little later someone else collided violently with him just as he was in the act of drinking, causing his lemonade to spill all over his clothes. The worst of it was that most of these rowdy ones were his fellow pa.s.sengers in Cra.s.s's brake, and there was not much chance of getting a seat in either of the other carriages, for they were overcrowded already.

From the remarks he overheard from time to time, Newman guessed the reason of their hostility, and as their manner towards him grew more menacing, he became so nervous that he began to think of quietly sneaking off and walking the remainder of the way home by himself, unless he could get somebody in one of the other brakes to change seats with him.

Whilst these thoughts were agitating his mind, d.i.c.k Wantley suddenly shouted out that he was going to go for the dirty tyke who had offered to work under price last winter.

It was his fault that they were all working for sixpence halfpenny and he was going to wipe the floor with him. Some of his friends eagerly offered to a.s.sist, but others interposed, and for a time it looked as if there was going to be a free fight, the aggressors struggling hard to get at their inoffensive victim.

Eventually, however, Newman found a seat in Misery's brake, squatting on the floor with his back to the horses, thankful enough to be out of reach of the drunken savages, who were now roaring out ribald songs and startling the countryside, as they drove along, with unearthly blasts on the coach horn.

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