Miss Serge. Well, I will say there's many a professional might learn a lesson from Alf—whether Mr. Perkins believes it or not.
[Cuttingly, to "Chorley."
Chorley. Now reelly, Miss Loo, don't come down on a feller like that. I want to see him do you credit, that's all, and he couldn't 'ave a better opportunity to distinguish himself—now could he?
Miss Serge. I'm not preventing him. But I don't know—these Niggers keep themselves very select, and they might object to it.
Alf. I'll soon square them. You keep your eye on me, and I'll make things a bit livelier!
[He enters the circle.
Miss Serge (admiringly). He has got a cheek, I must say! Look at him, dancing there along with those two Niggers—they don't hardly know what to make of him yet!
Chorley. Do you notice how they keep kicking him beyind on the sly like? I wonder he puts up with it!
Miss S. He'll be even with them presently—you see if he isn't.
[Alf attempts to twirl a tambourine on his finger, and lets it fall; derision from audience; Bones pats him on the head and takes the tambourine away—at which Alf only smiles feebly.