“I can’t say why not. But she won’t do anything—and if I were you I wouldn’t ask her.”
There was a pause.
“Oh, well,” said James, huffy. “She isn’t indispensable.”
And Alvina was to play the piano! Here was a blow for her! She hurried off to her bedroom to laugh and cry at once. She just saw herself at that piano, banging off the Merry Widow Waltz, and, in tender moments, The Rosary. Time after time, The Rosary. While the pictures flickered and the audience gave shouts and some grubby boy called “Chot-let, penny a bar! Chot-let, penny a bar! Chot-let, penny a bar!” away she banged at another tune.
What a sight for the gods! She burst out laughing. And at the same time, she thought of her mother and Miss Frost, and she cried as if her heart would break. And then all kinds of comic and incongruous tunes came into her head. She imagined herself dressing up with most priceless variations. Linger Longer Lucy, for example. She began to spin imaginary harmonies and variations in her head, upon the theme of Linger Longer Lucy.
“Linger longer Lucy, linger longer Loo.
How I love to linger longer linger long o’ you.
Listen while I sing, love, promise you’ll be true,
And linger longer longer linger linger longer Loo.”
All the tunes that used to make Miss Frost so angry. All the Dream Waltzes and Maiden’s Prayers, and the awful songs.
“For in Spooney-ooney Island
Is there any one cares for me?
In Spooney-ooney Island
Why surely there ought to be—”
Poor Miss Frost! Alvina imagined herself leading a chorus of collier louts, in a bad atmosphere of “Woodbines” and oranges, during the intervals when the pictures had collapsed.
“How’d you like to spoon with me?
How’d you like to spoon with me?
(Why ra-ther!)
Underneath the oak-tree nice and shady
Calling me your tootsey-wootsey lady?
How’d you like to hug and squeeze,
(Just try me!)
Dandle me upon your knee,
Calling me your little lovey-dovey—
How’d you like to spoon with me?
(Oh-h—Go on!)”