o finish sewing some bloomers.
Lily approved:

"Bloomers? Very nice ... for a troupe!"

Presently, in the afternoon, the three of them went for a walk: Pa freshly
shaven; Ma decked out in her jewelry: Lily did not wear any, "only in the
evening when she went into society." Tottenham Court Road, the Palace, the
Hippodrome.... Pa would have liked to write up on his hat:

"Lily has come back!"

He looked to right and left, had the satisfaction of distributing nods and
bows to some artistes, with Lily on his arm, as though to say:

"You see it was wrong, all that people were saying, about those smackings!
And the proof is, here she is,--on my arm, damn it!"

As for Lily, she thought only of showing herself:

"If Trampy could see me now!" she reflected. "And Jimmy, if he could see
me, in my fine dress, while it's still new!"

Regent Street reminded Lily of Pa's generosity. She would not be
behindhand. Pa had to accept a red tie, a pair of gloves, a match-box, as
a present; Ma, an embroidered handkerchief, a lucky charm. Lily had the
satisfaction of paying with gold and receiving change.

She was tired, in the evening, put on a languid air: gee, her mother would
have shaken her for less in the old days! Lily put it on still more, to
show them all that times were changed. But she did the troupe the honor of
going to see their performance at the Castle. It was a great success for
her.

"Made a bit, eh?" asked the manager, seeing her fine dress. "Coming back
for good, to star with the New Zealanders?"

"I don't know; I shall see."

Lily was quite ready to come back, in her own mind, but she wanted to
return in triumph. It all depended on the price offered: to think that she
had worked for them at ten shillings a week, when she was worth quite two
pounds a night! She would see; she would make her own conditions: for
instance, herself in tights, the others in bloomers ... a special tune for
her entrance ... no star beside herself!

Lily watched the New Zealanders' performance with the air of an expert:

"Not so bad; quite good ..."

And she had various ideas: herself as a fine lady, undressing on the
stage. Or rather, no, as a statue, on a pedestal in a park ... with Cousin
Daisy at her feet, throwing flowers to her. Then she would come to life,
as though waking from sleep, and step down prettily to a special tune.
Hullo, what's this? A bike! And then, gee, a blast of the trombone and she
would show them what a s