Lock that door," she said to Jane; "I _will_ have a good
time, in spite of them! Sit down; I'm going to play the 'Java March' for
you."
She struck out several ponderous and vengeful chords. "Why," called Jane,
"is _that_ the 'Java March'?"
She spread out her elbows and stalked up and down singing:
"'Oh, the _Dutch_ compa-_nee_
Is the _best_ compa-_nee_!'"
"Right again!" cried Mrs. Bates. "You _are_ one of us--just as I said!"
"Well, if that's the 'Java March,'" said Jane, "it's in an old book we
used to have about the house years and years ago. Only, if you bring it
up as an example of pa's taste--"
"He liked it because I played it, perhaps," said Mrs. Bates, quietly.
"Besides, why should you put it to those shocking words? It _is_ in that
book," she continued, "and I've got one here just like it."
"Is it the one with 'Roll on, Silver Moon,' and 'Wild roved the Indian
maid, bright What's-her-name'?"
"Bright Alfarata. Same one, exactly. Bring up another chair, and we'll go
through a whole programme of classics--pruggrum, I mean."
"Let's see, though," said Jane, looking at her watch. "Mercy me! where
has the morning gone? It's after eleven o'clock."
"Supposing it is after eleven; supposing it was after a hundred and
eleven? You're going to stay to lunch."
"I'd love to so much; but I just can't. I've got too many other scalps to
take. So many thanks for yours! I'm going to work north towards the
Monument--another Massacre!"
"Well, Wednesday, then, without fail.
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