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VOCES POPULI.

COCKNEY COQUETRY:  A STUDY IN REGENT’S PARK.

SCENE—­NEAR THE BAND-STAND.  TIME—­7 P.M.  ON A SUNDAY IN AUGUST.

CHARACTERS.

    Polly (about 22; a tall brunette, of the respectable lower
    middle-class, with a flow of light badinage, and a taste for
    tormenting.)

    Flo (18; her friend; shorter, somewhat less pronounced in
    manner; rather pretty, simply and tastefully dressed; milliner
    or bonnet-maker’s apprentice.)

Mr. Ernest Hawkins (otherwise known as “ERNIE ’ORKINS”; 19 or 20; short, sallow, spectacled; draper’s assistant; a respectable and industrious young fellow, who chooses to pass in his hours of ease as a blase misogynist_).

    Alfred (his friend; shorter and sallower; a person with a
    talent for silence, which he cultivates assiduously).

    POLLY and FLO are seated upon chairs by the path, watching
    the crowd promenading around the enclosure where the Band is
    playing.

Polly (to FLO).  There’s ERNIE ’ORKINS;—­he doesn’t see us yet.  ’Ullo, ERNIE, come ’ere and talk to us, won’t you?

Flo.  Don’t, POLLY.  I’m sure I don’t want to talk to him!

Polly.  Now you know you do, FLO,—­more than I do, if the truth was known.  It’s all on your account I called out to him.

Mr. Hawkins (coming up).  ’Ullo! so you’re ’ere, are you?

    [Stands in front of their chairs in an easy attitude.  His
    friend looks on with an admiring grin in the background,
    unintroduced, but quite happy and contented.

Polly.  Ah, we’re ’ere all right enough.  ’Ow did you get out?

Mr. H. (his dignity slightly ruffled).  ’Ow did I get out?  I’m not in the ’abit of working Sundays if I know it.

Polly.  Oh, I thought p’raps she wouldn’t let you come out without ’er. (Mr. H. disdains to notice this insinuation.) Why, how you are blushing up, FLO!  She looks quite nice when she blushes, don’t she?

Mr. H. (who is of the same opinion, but considers it beneath him to betray his sentiments).  Can’t say, I’m sure; I ain’t a judge of blushing myself.  I’ve forgotten how it’s done.

Polly.  Ah!  I dessay you found it convenient to forget. (A pause.  Mr. H. smiles in well-pleased acknowledgment of this tribute to his brazen demeanour.) Did ARTHUR send you a telegraph?—­he sent FLO one. [This is added with a significance intended to excite Mr. H.’s jealousy.

Mr. H. (unperturbed).  No; he telegraphed to father, though.  He’s gettin’ on well over at Melbun, ain’t he?  They think a lot of him out there.  And now gettin’ his name in the paper, too, like that, why—­