I came out myself this morning: there was such a crowd! and a
band! they thought I was a suffragette: only fancy! You see it was
like this. Holy Joe got talking about how he'd been a champion
sprinter at college.
MRS GILBEY. A what?
DORA. A sprinter. He said he was the fastest hundred yards runner in
England. We were all in the old cowshed that night.
MRS GILBEY. What old cowshed?
GILBEY. [groaning] Oh, get on. Get on.
DORA. Oh, of course you wouldnt know. How silly of me! It's a
rather go-ahead sort of music hall in Stepney. We call it the old
cowshed.
MRS GILBEY. Does Mr Grenfell take Bobby to music halls?
DORA. No. Bobby takes him. But Holy Joe likes it: fairly laps it
up like a kitten, poor old dear. Well, Bobby says to me, "Darling--"
MRS GILBEY. [placidly] Why does he call you Darling?
DORA. Oh, everybody calls me Darling: it's a sort of name Ive got.
Darling Dora, you know. Well, he says, "Darling, if you can get Holy
Joe to sprint a hundred yards, I'll stand you that squiffer with the
gold keys."
MRS GILBEY. Does he call his tutor Holy Joe to his face [Gilbey
clutches at his hair in his impatience].
DORA. Well, what would he call him? After all, Holy Joe is Holy Joe;
and boys will be boys.
MRS GILBEY. Whats a squiffer?
DORA. Oh, of course: excuse my vulgarity: a concertina. Theres one
in a shop in Green Street, ivory inlaid, with gold keys and Russia
leather bellows; and Bobby knew I hankered after it; but he couldnt
afford it, poor lad, though I knew he just longed to give it to me.
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