SPLASHING INTO
SOCIETY[iii]

CHAPTER ONE[1]

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Such were the stranes that smote the airas Mr. Harold Withersquash drew nearto the humbel home of his Selia. Shewas just a low born girl but none could beather at playing the piano.

Mr. Withersquash mutered: “She willdo,” and wrapt the door with a clatter.

Now Selia’s ma had shortly done her dayswash, being Tuesday, and she came andopened the door in a forbidable stile, not beingin the best of moods.

[2] “What is it now?” snapt she at our hero,and sniffled in her nose, for she was a rum ladyand corshus as well as cross.

“Ah, good-morning, good-morning,” lispedMr. Withersquash in rather a sloppy mode forto make no mystery she had cut the land fromhis feet by her plane ways.

“Selia!” the good woman borled, “Comeon out and never mind your hair-curlers, it’sonly young Withersquash again.” She knewno better than to be so plane, not having edducation.

“Dezist moddam,” cried Mr. Withersquash,“and list. My unckle Burt is dead!”

“Him dead, well I never!” the chaste amplematron replied with a kindly twist at herhandsom broch of platted hares, “What evernext!”

But now the delicious Selia pushed past herma’s elbow, she was a fair rose of Briton,rather false hair like we see advertised, her[3] somewhat perfect nose would scarse benoticed to have been turned up, owing tosleeping on her stomache, and she wore a nicedress of white embrery, a good few brochesand some yellow stockings.

“Your unckle dead?” she asked.

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