to spin round on her toes. Ada's only talent lay in her feet, and,
conscious of her skill, she danced before the hunchback with the lightness
of a feather, revolving smoothly on one spot, reversing, advancing and
retreating in a straight line, displaying every intricacy of the waltz.
The sight was too much for Jonah, and, dropping the mouth-organ,
he seized her in his arms.

"Wot did yer stop for?" cried Ada. "We carn't darnce without a tune."

"Carn't we?" said Jonah, in derision, and began to hum the words of the
waltz that he had been playing:


White Wings, they never grow weary,
They carry me cheerily over the sea;
Night comes, I long for my dearie--
I'll spread out my White Wings and sail home to thee.


The pair had no equals in the true larrikin style, called "cass dancing",
and they revolved slowly on a space the size of a dinner-plate, Ada's head
on Jonah's breast, their bodies pressed together, rigid as the pasteboard
figures in a peep-show. They were interrupted by a cry from Mrs Yabsley's
bedroom. Jonah stopped instantly, with a look of dismay on his face.
Ada looked at him with a curious smile, and burst out laughing.

"I'll 'ave ter put 'im to sleep now. Cum an' 'ave a look at 'im,
Joe--'e won't eat yer."

"No fear," cried Jonah, recoiling with anger. "Wot did yer promise before