“Mr. Fosse called just before these gentlemen, mum,” said she. “The silly hass wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I says, ‘Well, it’s scarlet fever if you will have it between yer bleery bicycle lamps,’ says I.” She put her lean little arms akimbo: “He’s so blimey pushing.” She put her hand up to her mouth and added confidentially: “I can’t abide Fosse myself——”
A distant yell from below called: “Victoria-May-Yallis!”
“Hullo!” said the girl, “there’s ’er voice a-yellin’ again.”
She stole away softly.
CHAPTER XI
Wherein Egoism begins to Suspect that there is a Bottom to the Pint Pot
“Please, mum,” Victoria’s untidy head appeared round the edge of the door, whispering hoarsely: “A gentleman as calls hisself Pangbutt is on the hall mat downstairs.”
Caroline raised her head inquiringly: