L. [Placidly] What is?
LEMMY. The revolution. [He cranes out] They've got it on a barrer.
Cheerio!
VOICE. [Answering] Cheerio!
LEMMY. [Leaning out] I sy--you 'yn't tykin' the body, are yer?
VOICE. Nao.
LEMMY. Did she die o' starvytion O.K.?
VOICE. She bloomin' well did; I know 'er brother.
LEMMY. Ah! That'll do us a bit o' good!
VOICE. Cheerio!
LEMMY. So long!
VOICE. So long!
[The girl's voice is heard again in the distance singing the
Marseillaise. The door is flung open and LITTLE AIDA comes
running in again.]
LEMMY. 'Allo, little Aida!
L. AIDA. 'Allo, I been follerin' the corfin. It's better than an
'orse dahn!
MRS. L. What coffin?
L. AIDA. Why, 'er's wot died o' starvytion up the street. They're
goin' to tyke it to 'Yde Pawk, and 'oller.
MRS. L. Well, never yu mind wot they'm goin' to du: Yu wait an' take
my trousers like a gude gell.
[She puts her mug aside and takes up her unfinished pair of
trousers. But the wine has entered her fingers, and strength to
push the needle through is lacking.]
LEMMY. [Tuning his fiddle] Wot'll yer 'ave, little Aida? "Dead March
in Saul" or "When the fields was white wiv dysies"?
L. AIDA. [With a hop and a brilliant smile] Aoh yus! "When the
fields"----
MRS. L. [With a gesture of despair] Deary me! I 'aven't a-got the
strength!
LEMMY.
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