Jonah took the mouth-organ from his pocket, and rubbed it carefully on his sleeve. He was a famous performer on this instrument, and on holiday nights the Push marched through the streets, with Jonah in the lead, playing tunes that he learned at the "Tiv". He breathed slowly into the tubes, running up and down the scale as a pianist runs his fingers over the keyboard before playing, and then struck into a sentimental ballad. In five minutes he had warmed up to his work, changing from one tune to another with barely a pause, revelling in the simple rhythm and facile phrases of the popular songs. Ada listened spellbound, amazed by this talent for music, carried back to the gallery of the music-hall where she had heard these very tunes. At last he struck into a waltz, marking the time with his foot, drawing his breath in rapid jerks to accentuate the bass. "Must 'ave a turn, if I die fer it," cried Ada, springing to her feet, and, with her arms extended to embrace an imaginary partner, she began 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 I agreed to come down?" Chook's words flashed across his mind. This was a trap, and he had been a fool to come. "I'll cum to-morrow, an' fix up the fowls," he cried, and grabbing his mouth-organ, turned to go--to find his way blocked by Mrs Yabsley, carrying a shoulder of mutton and a bag of groceries. CHAPTER 3 CARDIGAN STREET AT HOME