MRS. L. [Smiling, and moving her hands] I like a bit o' music. It du that move 'ee.
PRESS. Bravo, Mrs. Lemmy. Come on!
LEMMY. Come on, old dear! We'll be in time for the revolution yet.
MRS. L. 'Tes 'earin' the Old 'Undred again!
LEMMY. [To THE PRESS] She 'yn't been aht these two years. [To his mother, who has put up her hands to her head] Nao, never mind yer 'at. [To THE PRESS] She 'yn't got none! [Aloud] No West-End lydy wears anyfink at all in the evenin'!
MRS. L. 'Ow'm I lukin', Bob?
LEMMY. First-clawss; yer've got a colour fit to toast by. We'll show 'em yer've got a kick in yer. [He takes her arm] Little Aida, ketch 'old o' the sensytions.
[He indicates the trousers THE PRESS takes MRS. LEMMY'S other arm.]
MRS. L. [With an excited little laugh] Quite like a gell!
And, smiling between her son and THE PRESS, she passes out; LITTLE
AIDA, with a fling of her heels and a wave of the trousers, follows.