VOICE. [From the crowd] Three cheers for Bill Dromedary.
LEMMY. I sy, there's veal an' 'am, an' pork wine at the back for them as wants it; I 'eard the word passed. An' look 'ere, if yer want a flag for the revolution, tyke muvver's trahsers an' tie 'em to the corfin. Yer cawn't 'ave no more inspirin' banner. Ketch! [He throws the trousers out] Give Bill a double-barrel fast, to show there's no ill-feelin'. Ip, 'ip!
[The crowd cheers, then slowly passes away, singing at a hoarse version of the Marseillaise, till all that is heard is a faint murmuring and a distant barrel-organ playing the same tune.]
PRESS. [Writing] "And far up in the clear summer air the larks were singing."
LORD W. [Passing his heard over his hair, and blinking his eyes] James! Ready?
JAMES. Me Lord!
L. ANNE. Daddy!
LADY W. [Taking his arm] Bill! It's all right, old man—all right!
LORD W. [Blinking] Those infernal larks! Thought we were on the Somme again! Ah! Mr. Lemmy, [Still rather dreamy] no end obliged to you; you're so decent. Now, why did you want to blow us up before dinner?
LEMMY. Blow yer up? [Passing his hand over his hair in travesty] "Is it a dream? Then wykin' would be pyne."