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A musician with his instrument in a case, two fat women talking to each other, a little Cockney work-girl, and her young man, and then a lady. There could be no mistake about her social status. The conductor, standing by the step, recognized it at once, and held out his arm to assist her. The gaslight flared full upon her face, the expression of which was somewhat set.
There was that restlessness in the air which seizes the cockney sometimes when a turn in the weather calls him into the open. After Mildred had cleared away the supper she went and stood at the window. The street noises came up to them, noises of people calling to one another, of the passing traffic, of a barrel-organ in the distance.
The moral qualities with which we are concerned are no longer the same as in the days of the Greeks. Before this cockney sculpture was planned, there should have been a closer study of the history and philosophy of art in Berlin.
The Canadian is full of self-assertiveness, and the Cockney has some of that too; he does not hesitate to express his views, and you have conflicting spirits at once. The Cockney will arrive at the conclusion in about twenty-four hours that he could run Canada better than it is now being run. The Scotchman will take a week to arrive at the same conclusion, and holds his tongue about it.
The little Cockney was the centre of a well-organised and thoroughly competent body of obstructers who by clever "heckling," by points of order, by insistent questioning, by playing now upon the anti-American string, now upon the anti-Federation string, by ribald laughter, by cheering a happy criticism, completely checked every attempt of the speaker to take flight in his oratory.
The Jersey youth with the blue eyes, the Oxford man, who speaks of things that humble waitresses do not understand, the company drummer, the platoon sergeants, and the Cockney who vows that water is spoilt in making every cup of coffee he drinks, all come here, and all love the place.
He was disposed to dispute my order, and the stiffs backed him up with talk. So I turned out and turned to. I slapped a few stiffs, and threw Cockney through the door. He invited me out on deck, and of course I accepted. We had a nice set-to before all hands. Even the tradesmen came forward to see the sport. Well, Newman's estimate of the man was correct. Cockney was scum, yellow scum.
"I am a terrible Cockney, Sir Henry, found it very cold, and was very sulky. The only man I cared to see in Scotland was at the Lakes; but I kept a register of events, which is now on the table in my dressing-room. If Graeme will read it, for I am but a stammerer, it is at your service." The paper was soon produced, and Mr. Graeme read the following:
But" those voices of the singing sailors were beginning almost to obsess her "are all the boatmen Nubians then?" "Nao!" he replied, with a sudden cockney accent. "But these that are singing?" "I say they are Noobian peoples, my lady. They are Mahmoud Baroudi's Noobian peoples." "Baroudi's sailors!" said Mrs. Armine. She sat up straight in her chair. "But Mahmoud Baroudi isn't here, at Luxor?"
He stood apart in shadow, swaying on his feet. "What would you give," he propounded thickly, "for a hay harvest breeze?" He climbed, or rolled, upon the billiard-table, turned head toward punkah, and suddenly lay still, a gross white figure, collapsed and sprawling. "How much does he think a man can stand?" snapped Nesbit, his lean Cockney face pulled in savage lines. "Beast of a song!
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