in, but still Sally did not come. Liza could not make it out, and was thinking she would be shut out, when just as the man who gave out the tokens for the day's work was pulling down the shutter in front of his window, Sally arrived, breathless and perspiring.
'Whew! Go' lumme, I am 'ot!' she said, wiping her face with her apron.
'I thought you wasn't comin',' said Liza.
'Well, I only just did it; I overslep' myself. I was aht lite last night.'
'Were yer?'
'Me an' 'Arry went ter see the ply. Oh, Liza, it's simply spiffin'! I've never see sich a good ply in my life. Lor'! Why, it mikes yer blood run cold: they 'ang a man on the stige; oh, it mide me creep all over!'
And then she began telling Liza all about it—the blood and thunder, the shooting, the railway train, the murder, the bomb, the hero, the funny man—jumbling everything up in her excitement, repeating little scraps of dialogue—all wrong—gesticulating, getting excited and red in the face at the recollection. Liza listened rather crossly, feeling bored at the detail into which Sally was going: the piece really didn't much interest her.
'One 'ud think yer'd never been to a theatre in your life before,' she said.
'I never seen anything so good, I can tell yer. You tike my tip, and git Tom ter tike yer.'
'I don't want ter go; an' if I did I'd py for myself an' go alone.'
'Cheese it! That ain't 'alf so good. Me an' 'Arry, we set together, 'im with 'is arm round my wiste and me oldin' 'is 'and. It was jam, I can tell yer!'
'Well, I don't want anyone sprawlin' me abaht, thet ain't my mark!'
'But I do like 'Arry; you dunno the little ways 'e 'as; an' we're goin' ter be married in three weeks now. 'Arry said, well, 'e says, "I'll git a licence." "Na," says I, "'ave the banns read aht in church: it seems more reg'lar like to 'ave banns; so they're goin' ter be read aht next Sunday. You'll come with me 'an 'ear them, won't yer, Liza?"'
'Yus, I don't mind.'
On the way home Sally insisted on stopping in front of the poster and explaining to Liza all about the scene represented.
'Oh, you give me the sick with your "Fital Card", you do! I'm goin' 'ome.' And she left Sally in the midst of her explanation.
'I dunno wot's up with Liza,' remarked Sally to a mutual friend. 'She's always got the needle, some'ow.'
'Oh, she's barmy,' answered the friend.
'Well, I do think she's a bit dotty sometimes—I do really,' rejoined Sally.
Liza walked homewards, thinking of the play; at length she tossed her head impatiently.
'I don't want ter see the blasted thing; an' if I see that there Jim I'll tell 'im so; swop me bob, I will.'
She did see him; he was leaning with his back against the wall of his house, smoking. Liza knew he had seen her, and as she walked by pretended not to have noticed him. To her disgust, he let her pass, and she was thinking he hadn't seen her after all, when she heard him call her name.
'Liza!'
She turned round and started with surprise very well imitated. 'I didn't see you was there!' she said.
'Why did yer pretend not ter notice me, as yer went past—eh, Liza?'
'Why, I didn't see yer.'
'Garn! But you ain't shirty with me?'
'Wot 'ave I got to be shirty abaht?'
He tried to take her hand, but she drew it away quickly. She was getting used to the movement. They went on talking, but Jim did not mention the theatre; Liza was surprised, and wondered whether he had forgotten.
'Er—Sally went to the ply last night,' she said, at last.
'Oh!' he said, and that was all.
She got impatient.
'Well, I'm off!' she said.
'Na, don't go yet; I want ter talk ter yer,' he replied.
'Wot abaht? anythin' in partickler?' She would drag it out of him if she possibly could.
'Not thet I knows on,' he said, smiling.
'Good night!' she said, abruptly, turning away from him.
'Well, I'm damned if 'e ain't forgotten!' she said to herself, sulkily, as she marched home.
The following evening about six o'clock, it suddenly struck her that it was the last night of the 'New and Sensational Drama'.
'I do like thet Jim Blakeston,' she said to herself; 'fancy treatin' me like thet! You wouldn't catch Tom doin' sich a thing. Bli'me if I speak to 'im again, the ——. Now I shan't see it at all. I've a good mind ter go on my own 'ook. Fancy 'is forgettin' all abaht it, like thet!'
She was really quite indignant; though, as she had distinctly refused Jim's offer, it was rather hard to see why.
''E said 'e'd wite for me ahtside the doors; I wonder if 'e's there. I'll go an' see if 'e is, see if I don't—an' then if 'e's there, I'll go in on my own 'ook, jist ter spite 'im!'
She dressed herself in her best, and, so that the neighbours shouldn't see her, went up a passage between some model lodging-house buildings, and in this roundabout way got into the Westminster Bridge Road, and soon found herself in front of the theatre.
'I've been witin' for yer this 'alf-hour.'
She turned round and saw Jim standing just behind her.
''Oo are you talkin' to? I'm not goin' to the ply with you. Wot d'yer tike me for, eh?'
''Oo are yer goin' with, then?'
'I'm goin' alone.'
'Garn! don't be a bloomin' jackass!'
Liza was feeling very injured.
'Thet's 'ow you treat me! I shall go 'ome. Why didn't you come aht the other night?'
'Yer told me not ter.'
She snorted at the ridiculous ineptitude of the reply.
'Why didn't you say nothin' abaht it yesterday?'
'Why, I thought you'd come if I didn't talk on it.'
'Well, I think you're a —— brute!' She felt very much inclined to cry.
'Come on, Liza, don't tike on; I didn't mean no offence.' And be put his arm round her waist and led her to take their places at the gallery door. Two tears escaped from the corners of her eyes and ran down her nose, but she felt very relieved and happy, and let him lead her where he would.
There was a long string of people waiting at the door, and Liza was delighted to see a couple of niggers who were helping them
