“where in deauce shall we start?” said mr. withersq when they got round the corner. “we might suitably have a taxi to start off with.”
“indeed yes,” simpered selia as to the manner born, with a good pull at her garters, at which the perfunctery mr. withersq ran into the road and he soon found a fresh-looking taxi. the driver was rather a kindly man with frizzled beard.
“now my man, drive us about through some smart places,” said our hero, blowing in his cheeks and breathing, but he really felt rather little because of not yet knowing his way about the town.
“how would you care for an airing around 8kensington, for that is a good part my lord,” said the taxi man.
mr. withersq replied “certenly, certenly, my good man,” and with a wink of glee at each other he and his dear wench selia popped into the motor.
“what a whiz,” yelled mr. withersq as they poured through the streets.
when they arrived in kensington, mr. withersq tossed the man some money in silver very lordly, so he drove off highly gratifyed.
they had a look round.
“this is a bit slow,” said selia, “i dont think this is hardly society. where we live is very like, only less dogs and the prams not so sparkly.” for on every side beneath the trees spanking nurses trundled smart prams tidily followed by neatly brushed dogs. it was indeed smart, but of rather a nursery sort, and not what our pair were out after.
9“indeed things are a bit slow in kensington,” replyed mr. withersq. “i tell you what,” he went on, “we might go to a party.”
“we do not know any,” said selia, she was a bit waxy with the vexation and her shoes had a stone in.
“you know my brother?” asked mr. withersq in a honey tone.
“such folly” snapt selia, “he isnt the class to know any partys!”
“ah,” blushed our hero with a smile, “that’s were your wrong, for he cleans for the best, so there.”
“what of it” she snapt, “once a window-cleaner always a window-cleaner, and you know well enough that such as him dont go to partys.”
“this is what of it,” snortled he, for truth to tell he little liked her scorn. “this is what of it. my brother tells me there’s a monstrous party tonight at where he cleaned yesterday, 10with tittled ladys in galore and knites and what not for the asking, not forgetting writers and painters and such like.”
“we might try our luck,” said selia feeling a bit put down, so on they stept to soho and egerly ran into h—— street. when they got there, it was the house where mr. withersquashes brother had cleaned, and there was a piece of spotted carpet out on the footwark, and you ran up it to the door. the door was opened and they went in. selia settled her hat on the stares, it was one of those kind that slip and sniggle your hair which is so vexing as it was rather too large, being a real paris shapoh left behind by one of her ma’s lodgers.
o what a bozz of merry crowds from above. o what a time for our little heros, but selia muttered in her throte: “such is not for any likes of us.” even the galant mr. withersquash was half making off, until slapping the cash in his trouzers pockets with a fine rattel, 11he tucked selia’s elboe in his, and burst into the room. the babbel ceased, all eyes glowed upon them.
“my name is withersquash and this young lady is selia,” he cried very loud. “my unckel burt is dead, he has left me a good bit. is it all right?”
“oh how charming,” cried the assembly in shrilly tones and all pressed forward to stare closer.
they were indeed fine. the ladys in all manners of colours chiefly oringe and green idly sipped up rich wine from some mugs, many smoked without a stop, there were arms and backs and fronts all bare, some frocks with tails to them, and some dames wore trouzer things, very bright and sloppy, much to mr. withersquashes surprise. several kinds of men were dotted about, some in evening close, some like soldiers and many with long locks or pale fat face as though in grief 12which were the artists. the walls however were done up very high class in coloured paints and not at all how you would expect in gentlepeoples places. such were the scene and the lights were low.
“and how much did your dead unckle leave?” kindly asked a magnificent man of foreign stile.
“oh a few millions,” replied mr. withersquash.
at that the assembly seemed quite cordiel and all pressed forward to shake hands. a gent in kaki drew selia to a well-stuffed couch altho eyeing her white embrey dress in amaze and embracing her politely began to have a nice chat. mr. withersq on the other hand when he saw it was the thing, after a litel also embrased a few of the lushous women one by one, but now and then he gave a good wink of glee over their shoulders to selia.
13 “ha, ha,” he thought to himself. “money always talks.”
now the gent who had asked mr. withersq how much his unckle left came up to the sofa on which selia sat, and leaning on its stuffed arm, bent and smiled in her eye.
for this the gent in kaki frowned aside, gnawing his lip for he had little or no moustache to do it with.
“you have the advantage of me!” cried selia coyly to this new face, to which the foreign newcomer replied in a damp voice: “i am tzpcham, the times plastick avetar.”
“how nice!” replied selia, brightly, at which he smiled faintly, so she felt they were getting on. she was always one to want to quickly pick up the tricks was selia.
“my name is selia,” she added, with a soft giggle for his sake.
but now a dazzling noble with diamond 14studs and slippery shoes in a hard-boiled front like you see in laundrys came up murmuring “pleasure!” and then gripping selia round the back, stood her on her feet. once more the gramyphone struck up, and they began to jig about to its notes, as happily selia guest when stood on her feet that this was the thing to do. she could not dance very well, but it did not matter as there was little room to do more than shuffel.
“isnt she charming,” cried the ladys which made mr. withersq burn with pride. not to be outdone he seezed the largest lady round the centre. she had a silk stocking tied round her head, which is very smart for evening wear, and they began to have a bit of a caper also, and cries of approval arose in a polite way from all assembeled.
“what a pant!” yelled mr. withersq, but he kept at it, knowing that to dance was the craze of the hour. round and round they 15went, and more and more couples joined in until all jammed together they trudged and shuffled to the music in the hot room.
when they at last stopt all out of breath and gasping, the lights got a bit lower and the largest lady what he had since popt on a chair got up and stood in the centre of the room but all the others sat down on the floor or the sofars and lapped up some more wine to take the dust out of their throats.
the fat lady now undid her flowing cape and dropped it down, very lighthearted, draped as she was in a quantity of muslin, rather limp perhaps, but striking, and then she took off her slippers, and already having no stockings on was now barefoot and began to dance and show off in the middel of the room, tied round the haunch with gold stuff, and waggeled and bobbed herself about to the notes of the gramafone.
16 “ecquisist,” howled the crowd of lovely folk, “what form divine!”
“what is she at?” growled mr. withersq for to tell the truth he felt a bit queer, this being in the nature of a surprise, and hoping that this was not a thing to copy, not feeling too sure of the last time he washed his feet.
“hussssh!” hissed a shriveled dowager beside him, “it is her art.”
now the fat lady at last ceased dancing and sank down, and a beaky-nosed sort of gentleman cried out: “our newly-come friend withersq does not seem to understand.”
“dont be a soft!” cried selia, for she had guest he had put his foot in it by his remark, remembering what her ma had taught her that no true ladys and gentlemen ever took notice or seemed amazed but took things as in a dream without saying much.
now while all this turmoil went on, the ladys cried several times “how two to!” and 17“arent they two sweet?” and “oh, no!” like a perfect choir, which selia and mr. withersq hardly knew how to take.
the sharpnosed gent before long rose to his feet with a bored sniff.
“art, my dear friend, is but a long sigh for the beautiful and great,” he drorled, and bursting into tears he left the room and was seen no more, and the ladys said he was charming too.
selia now ventured to wisper to the young person beside her on the floor: “why did he cry? what has he done wrong?”
“oh, dont ask me, i am only a meer countess and no nothing of artists and their ways,” this beauty replied with an haughty smirk.
“i see,” politely said selia, although she did not really, but feeling very improved to be on speaking terms with a countess so soon.
and now came another nice little event. 18the man tzpcham having quaft several bouts of the costly wines sudenly stept forward tossing back his hairs and then like a conjurer he pulled from his coat a thing like a football stuck on one side of a plate, only all made in one out of stone, and it was really a statue. it was a surprise for selia and mr. withersq, as they had only seen statues before that were like people.
“it is my latest,” cried tzpcham, and the brite ladys and the men bent and cooed round it making noises of pleasure.
“all art is the round getting the best of the plain,” said he then in a gloomy way shaking his head.
“how too true!” cried selia gushingly, for she was a quick girl and had picked up this smart saying by now, and drew murmurs of admiration from all beholders.
by this time of night, all the assembly had drunk many drinks and so very soon they lay 19down in ordely heaps and pairs on the floor or the sofars to sleep it off, and when selia and mr. withersquash had said their prayers they lay down too, selia with her head softly rested on her bag, and dropped quickly off to sleep very well pleased with the way they had got on, and that was the end of the party.
