chirping, proceeding apparently from the
deepest recesses of the interior of Miss Amelia Martin. 'Sing
out'--shouted one gentleman in a white great-coat. 'Don't be afraid to
put the steam on, old gal,' exclaimed another, 'S-s-s-s-s-s-s'-went the
five-and-twenty bottled ales. 'Shame, shame!' remonstrated the
ornamental painter's journeyman's party--'S-s-s-s' went the bottled ales
again, accompanied by all the gins, and a majority of the brandies.

'Turn them geese out,' cried the ornamental painter's journeyman's party,
with great indignation.

'Sing out,' whispered Mr. Jennings Rodolph.

'So I do,' responded Miss Amelia Martin.

'Sing louder,' said Mrs. Jennings Rodolph.

'I can't,' replied Miss Amelia Martin.

'Off, off, off,' cried the rest of the audience.

'Bray-vo!' shouted the painter's party. It wouldn't do--Miss Amelia
Martin left the orchestra, with much less ceremony than she had entered
it; and, as she couldn't sing out, never came out. The general good
humour was not restored until Mr. Jennings Rodolph had become purple in
the face, by imitating divers quadrupeds for half an hour, without being
able to render himself audible; and, to this day, neither has Miss Amelia
Martin's good humour been restored, nor the dresses made for and
presented to Mrs. Jennings Rodolph, nor the local abilities which Mr.
Jennings Rodolph once staked his professional reputation that Miss Martin
possessed.

CHAPTER IX--THE DANCING ACADEMY

Of all the dancing academies that ever were established, there never was
one more popular in its immediate vicinity than Signor Billsmethi's, of
the 'King's Theatre.' It was not in Spring-gardens, or Newman-street, or
Berners-street, or Gower-street, or Charlotte-street, or Percy-street, or
any other of the numerous streets which have been devoted time out of
mind to professional people, dispensaries, and boarding-houses; it was
not in the West-end at all--it rather approximated to the eastern portion
of London, being situated in the populous and improving neighbourhood of
Gray's-inn-lane. It was not a dear dancing academy--four-and-sixpence a
quarter is decidedly cheap upon the whole. It was _very_ select, the
number of pupils being strictly limited to seventy-five, and a quarter's
payment in advance being rigidly exacted. There was public tuition and
private tuition--an assembly-room and a parlour. Signor Billsmethi's
family were always thrown in with the parlour, and