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 fiancee).  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.