“I know,” said Ann. “It’s like suddenly finding yourself talking aloud. And don’t you feel a fool if there’s anybody listening?”
They bought collar, toothbrush, pajamas, and a red sausage for supper. With these they returned to Mitcham Mews and had to wait up until Jimmy at No. 10 turned up. He did so about one o’clock, a strange figure strutting up the mews, beaming all over his face, and humming:
Can you see me, gray eyes,
Hiding in the tree,
Waiting for the moonrise?
Gray eyes, look at me,
In the apple-tree.
Apple-tree, apple-tree.
He had on a mortar-board cap, a white collar reaching up to his ears, an enormous black bow tie, a red satin waistcoat hung with chains, and his face was blacked except for one eye and a quarter of an inch all round his mouth. He carried a banjo. As he saw Ann he drew his hand across the strings and croaked out in a hoarse voice:
“Give us a kiss, old dear, I’m that hellish dry.”