"It sounds like ta-ra-ra-boomdeay," said Cokaleek, who thought his wife meant the melody that Sallie's muscular forefinger was thumping out on the concert-grand.
"Come, come along, every manjack of you!" shrieked Sallie, from the other side of the passage. "Ain't this glorious? Ain't it majestic? Don't it bang Beethoven, and knock Sullivan into a cocked-hat? Hark at this! Ta-ra-ra! largo, for the hautboys and first fiddles. Boom! cornets and ophicleides. De——ay! bassoons, double-basses, and minute-guns on the big drum. There's a funeral march for you! With my learned orchestration it will be as good as Sebastian Bach."
"Back? Why he's never been here in my time," faltered Cokaleek. "I don't know any feller called Sebastian."
"Rippin'!" cried Bobo; "and now we'll have the funeral. Get all the cloaks and umbrellas off the stand, Miranda. Bill, bring me the coal-scuttle—that's for the coffin, doncherknow. Cokaleek, you and Bill are to be a pair of black horses; and me and Miranda 'll be the mourners. Play away, Sallie, with all your might. We're doing the funeral."
Out flew Bobo into the garden, driving Bill and Cokaleek before her, scattering coals all over the gravel walk, and slashing at the two men with her pocket-handkerchief. She rushed all round the house, past the windows of the back parlour, kitchen, and scullery; and then she suddenly remembered the cub-hunting, and tore off to the stables, tally-ho-ing to Cokaleek and Bill to follow her. The next thing they all saw was a shower of baking-pears tumbling off the garden-wall, as Bobo took it on her favourite hunter. She had been essentially Bobo all that morning.
Chapter XIII.
"Bill," said Bobo, one winter twilight, by the smoking-room fire, after her fourteenth cigarette, "I want you to run away with me."
"Rot," answered Bill.
"Yes, I do. I've ordered the carriage for half-past ten this evening. We shall catch the mail to Euston."
"You won't catch this male," said Bill. "No, Bobo, you're very good fun—in your own house, but I don't want you in mine. You are distinctly Bobo, but that's all. It isn't enough to live upon. It won't pay rent and taxes."