Considering that she 'ad only just buried her 'usband, Rupert found her
quite skittish enough, and he couldn't 'elp wondering wot she'd be like
when she'd got over her grief a bit more.

The manager and George said he 'ad got on wonderfully, and arter talking
it over with Mrs. Alfredi they decided to open that evening, and pore
Rupert found out that the shop was the theatre, and all the acting he'd
got to do was to dance war-dances and sing in Zulu to people wot had paid
a penny a 'ead. He was a bit nervous at fust, for fear anybody should
find out that 'e wasn't a real Zulu, because the manager said they'd tear
'im to pieces if they did, and eat 'im arterwards, but arter a time 'is
nervousness wore off and he jumped about like a monkey.

They gave performances every arf hour from ha'-past six to ten, and
Rupert felt ready to drop. His feet was sore with dancing and his throat
ached with singing Zulu, but wot upset 'im more than anything was an
elderly old party wot would keep jabbing 'im in the ribs with her
umbrella to see whether he could laugh.

[Illustration: An elderly old party wot would keep jabbing 'im in the
ribs with her umbrella.]

They 'ad supper arter they 'ad closed, and then Mr. Alfredi and 'is wife
went off, and Rupert and George made up beds for themselves in the shop,
while Kumbo 'ad a little place to herself at the back.

He did better than ever next night, and they all said he was improving
fast; and Mr. Alfredi told 'im in a whisper that he thought he was better
at it than Kumbo. "Not that I should mind 'er knowing much," he ses,
"seeing that she's took such a fancy to you."