eyelid which in a larger woman would have been called a wink; in Poppy
it appeared as an exaggerated twinkle. It was greeted with a roar of
rapturous applause. Then Poppy, with her hands on her hips, and her
head on one side, raised her Cockney voice in a high-pitched song,
executing between each verse a slow, swinging chassée to the stage
Humorist with the concertina.

"Oh, she's my fancy girl,
With 'er 'air all outer curl,
'Ooks orf, eyes orf, petticoats all awry.
For then she isn't shy;
She gives 'er bangs a twirl,
And it's--'Kiss me quick!'--and--'That's the Trick!'
--and--(_dim_)--'_Wouldn't_ yer like to try?'"

When the stage Humorist with the concertina stopped chasséeing, and
put his finger to his nose, and observed, "That's wot you might call a
dim innuender," Rickman could have kicked him.

(_cresc._),
'But got up fit ter kill,
In 'er velverteen an' frill,
It's--'Ands orf!'--'Heyes orf!'--'Fetch yer one in the heye!'--
A strollin' down the 'Igh,
With 'Enery, Alf an' Bill,
It's--'None er that!'--and 'Mind my 'at!'--and
(_fortissimo_)--'WOULDN'T yer like to try!'"

"To try! To try!" Her chassée quickened ever so little, doubled on
itself, and became a tortuous thing. Poppy's feet beat out the measure