When we came into Jamaica
Square, there was a young copper on point duty at the corner. I says
to Bob: "Dearie boy: is it a bargain about the squiffer if I make Joe
sprint for you?" "Anything you like, darling," says he: "I love
you." I put on my best company manners and stepped up to the copper.
"If you please, sir," says I, "can you direct me to Carrickmines
Square?" I was so genteel, and talked so sweet, that he fell to it
like a bird. "I never heard of any such Square in these parts," he
says. "Then," says I, "what a very silly little officer you must
be!"; and I gave his helmet a chuck behind that knocked it over his
eyes, and did a bunk.
MRS GILBEY. Did a what?
DORA. A bunk. Holy Joe did one too all right: he sprinted faster
than he ever did in college, I bet, the old dear. He got clean off,
too. Just as he was overtaking me half-way down the square, we heard
the whistle; and at the sound of it he drew away like a streak of
lightning; and that was the last I saw of him. I was copped in the
Dock Road myself: rotten luck, wasn't it? I tried the innocent and
genteel and all the rest; but Bobby's hat done me in.
GILBEY. And what happened to the boy?
DORA. Only fancy! he stopped to laugh at the copper! He thought the
copper would see the joke, poor lamb. He was arguing about it when
the two that took me came along to find out what the whistle was for,
and brought me with them. Of course I swore I'd never seen him before
in my life; but there he was in my hat and I in his.
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