The song was all about a ladybird and a rose in an old-fashioned garden. The rose was sweet and innocent, and the ladybird “knew a bit.” It was neither funny nor frankly improper; but the audience roared with laughter, especially when she completed each verse with a huge wink. At the end of the song she threw a kiss deliberately up to their box, which made the entire audience turn and look at them, and reduced Claudia to a state of helpless and fiery embarrassment.
“All right, boys, it’s my husband,” called out the Girlie Girl, with a chuckle, as she departed into the wings. There followed a burst of yelling, cat-calling and clapping, with cries of “Good luck!” “Send us a bit of cake, Girlie,” “Keep him in order,” “Wish you joy!”
Claudia was sorry she had not put on a veil or a more shady hat. She knew that her face was scarlet. She had never been in such a scene in her life, and she took no pleasure in being conspicuous at any time. Jack was looking sheepish, but evidently he was more used to such things.
The audience went on singing the chorus of her last song while Fay was changing in the wings. Then the orchestra struck up another tune as she appeared in a smart little vivandière costume of blue, with red facings, and a cap that was stuck coquettishly sideways on her huge bunch of curls. This time she led the singing of the chorus from the stage, every now and then ceasing to sing herself, and beating time with encouraging gestures to the rather hoarse, flat voices of the crowd. It was a wonderful sight to Claudia, who was so fascinated that she forgot her embarrassment and leaned forward. As she looked round the house all the lips seemed moving—men and women, boys and children.
The audience would not part with her, and after taking eight curtains she came back to sing the last verse once more.
“Now boys, I want you to sing loudly this time. Let’s raise the roof and take the slates off. Shan’t be coming to Milton Green for a long time. Don’t whisper—sing. All of you sing, Tom and Bill, and Kate and Mary. Sing out as you would if you got your wages doubled to-morrow. Now....”
“I’m one of the King’s little drummer-boys,
And I serve....”
The packed audience positively yelled, and Fay laughing, kept on encouraging them with remarks:
“Go it, boys!... It’s a cure for sore throats.... Get it off your chests.... Bill, you’re not opening your mouth wide enough; no flies to-night.... Mary, a bit louder....”