Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just coming out then. Seeing her home
after practice. Conceited fellow with his waxedup moustache. Gave her that
song WINDS THAT BLOW FROM THE SOUTH.
Windy night that was I went to fetch her there was that lodge meeting
on about those lottery tickets after Goodwin's concert in the supperroom
or oakroom of the Mansion house. He and I behind. Sheet of her music blew
out of my hand against the High school railings. Lucky it didn't. Thing
like that spoils the effect of a night for her. Professor Goodwin linking
her in front. Shaky on his pins, poor old sot. His farewell concerts.
Positively last appearance on any stage. May be for months and may be for
never. Remember her laughing at the wind, her blizzard collar up. Corner
of Harcourt road remember that gust. Brrfoo! Blew up all her skirts and
her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. She did get flushed in the wind.
Remember when we got home raking up the fire and frying up those pieces
of lap of mutton for her supper with the Chutney sauce she liked. And the
mulled rum. Could see her in the bedroom from the hearth unclamping the
busk of her stays: white.
|