Hearing the exclamation, both Chrissie and the goddess looked towards the source of it in unconcealed amazement. They then looked at one another. As the goddess sank upon the sofa somewhat heavily she broke out into a loud laugh.
“Too funny!” she said, and proceeded to fan herself with great vigour.
Mr. Dodson then informed the company that Mr. James Dodson, of the St. James’s Restaurant Bar, Piccadilly, would admit any member of the audience into the mysteries of the three-card trick free of charge, yet made an exception in favour of Mr. Percival Davis, who was not in need of instruction.
“Jimmy,” said his fiancée in an authoritative tone, “sing I Want One like Pa had Yesterday.”
When Mr. Dodson had rendered this ballad with immense success, he called upon Joseph Cox, Esquire, of Surrey Second Eleven, and also of the leading public-houses within a mile radius of Kennington Oval, to give his world-famous imitation of a white mouse walking upon its fore-paws backwards.
Mr. Joseph Cox, with great natural modesty, disclaimed any special aptitude for a feat of this delicate nature, but, rather than be a source of disappointment to the company, he would undertake either to give an imitation of a hen laying an egg, or, if preferred, he would stand on his head while any member of the audience counted thirty.
Upon the proposal by Mr. Joseph Cox of these two extremely honourable alternatives, Mr. Dodson proceeded, as he phrased it, “to put it to the meeting.” With surprising unanimity “the meeting” decided that Mr. Cox be called upon to attempt the hazardous feat of standing on his head while Miss Tabitha Dodson counted thirty. After a little delay, which was caused by Miss Tabitha Dodson declining in most uncompromising terms to be associated in an official capacity with “such a piece of tomfoolery”—which resulted in the hostess, Mrs. Dodson, being nominated for this onerous duty—Mr. Joseph Cox, with a solemnity of mien which filled the audience with the greatest possible delight, proceeded to poise himself upon his apex.
When the enthusiasm which this feat excited had subsided in some measure, it was restored almost to its original fervour by Mr. Dodson’s announcement of the event of the evening. Mr. William Jordan, the distinguished scholar and England’s future poet laureate, would recite the first book of Homer’s Odyssey in the original Greek.
When Mr. William Jordan discovered that he was the source of some almost hilarious enthusiasm, he cried in tragic accents, with a kind of horror in his deep-set eyes, “Oh n-n-n-no, I c-c-c-c-couldn’t! indeed I c-c-c-c-couldn’t!”
In the midst of the shrieks of laughter which his words and the distraught expression of his countenance provoked, and after Mr. Dodson had ministered thereto by the assurance “that it was not because Mr. Jordan couldn’t, but because Mr. Jordan wouldn’t,” he allayed any feeling of disappointment that might have arisen from Mr. Jordan’s obduracy—which he assured Mr. Jordan “was not the thing”—by proposing that they should go down to supper.