Wilson said he was ready to do something to Cherry any time that was
convenient. Rogers suggested that they ask the niggers to do something on
the bars, and Sharpe seconded it, so the dervishes were written to and
promised a scragging if they didn't turn themselves inside out for the
glory of Biffen's concert.

"I say, you fellows," said Grim, "it's to be a concert, you know, and
except for Fruity's epilogue there isn't any music down yet." Cherry
groaned to think he'd been let in for a song.

"What about Thurston?" asked half a dozen of the fags.

"Right, oh! Now, 'Dicky Bird,' hop up to the front, and trot out your
list."

Thurston wasn't shy, and rather fancied his bleat, so he said, "Oh! I
don't mind at all."

"We thought you wouldn't," said the chairman, winking.

"What do you say to 'Alice, where art thou'?"

"We don't fancy your shouting five minutes for her at all. Next, please."

"'Only to see her face again,' then?"

"Whose?" said Sharpe, irreverently.

"Why, the girl's the fellow is singing about," said Thurston, hotly.