“For she’s a daisy,
She sends me crazy,
No wonder people say I’m getting pline;
She only flouts me,
And sometimes outs me,
I’m goin’ simply barmy on account of Emmer-jine.”
At half-past eight the band played the National Anthem; the attendants shouted the order for dispersal, and Bobbie, giving up the private box with a sigh, followed the crowd down the stone staircase. Outside, the patrons of the second performance waited impatiently in a line at the edge of the pavement. Bobbie recognized one or two faces in the crowd; they looked older, he thought, and slightly dirtier; those whom he remembered as boys of about his own age were accompanied by young ladies, whose bare heads shone with oil, and who wore, for the most part, maroon-coloured dresses, partly shielded by aprons; they seemed in excellent spirits, and shouted defiant badinage to friends at a distance. To Bobbie walking down towards Old Street, it occurred that the true touch of manliness would not he achieved until he secured the company of a member of the opposite sex. He went into a tobacconist’s shop and bought a twopenny cigar, with a paper belt, which he selected from a box labelled “The Rothschild Brand,” and smoking this, he, with the cornet placed in the capacious tail pocket of the frock-coat, strolled through Shoreditch to Hackney Road. He winked at one or two young women hurrying home with hot suppers laid on pieces of paper, but they only sneered at him, one lady of about thirteen declaring indignantly that, were her hands not full, she would fetch him a clip side the ear.
“It’s this blooming coat,” said Bobbie ruefully.
These repulses brought disappointment, but happily there existed other ways of proving to the world that he was now thoroughly grown up. He went into a quiet public-house, where, in the private bar, some bemused men were talking politics, and on the invitation of the anxious young proprietor, who appeared to be new to the business and desirous of obtaining custom, Bobbie gave his opinion on the question of increasing the strength of the Navy, and, encouraged by beer, found himself quite eloquent. So eloquent, indeed, that presently he insisted upon contradicting everybody, and some unpleasantness ensued.
“You’ll ’scuse me, my boy,” said a white-faced, sleepy-eyed baker, pointing unsteadily at Bobbie with the stem of his pipe, “you’ll ’scuse me if I take the lib’ty of tellin’ you—or rather I sh’ say, informing you—that you’re a liar.”
“You repeat that,” said Bobbie, flushed and aggressive. “Go on! Say that again and see what ’appens.”
“It was only meant as a pleasant joke, I expect,” urged the young proprietor nervously from the other side of the counter. “Shake ’ands and make it up.”
“Let him call me that again,” said the boy fiercely. “That’s all. I’ll learn him, the—”
“What’d I call you?” inquired the tipsy baker. “Best of my rec’lection I called you hon’ble young genleman. Do you deny, sir, that you’re hon’ble young genleman? Because, if so,” added the baker with great solemnity, “if so, I shall have great pleasure in—hic—drinkin’ your ’ealth.”
“I’ve been insulted!” shouted the scarlet-faced boy violently, “in the presence of gentlemen! I want this put right! I want an apology! I’m as good a man—”