"You! What do you do?"
"I sing patriotic songs and drinking-songs—"
"Aren't they the same thing in England?"
"Don't say that on the stage or they'll throw pewter pots. They're very patriotic."
"That's just what I said. What's your name—I suppose you change it?"
"Yes—as I hope you will yours—some day."
"I shan't take yours."
"Nobody arxed you, miss," he said. "And, besides, mine is copyright—Jolly Jack Jenkins. I make a fiver a week by it."
"A fiver!" The bass chorister suddenly took on an air of Arabian nights. At this rate she could buy back the family castle. Her struggling brothers—how they would bless their magician sister—Mick should have a London practice, Miles a partnership in an engineering firm.
"You come with me and see Fossy," continued Jolly Jack Jenkins.