By this time of night, all the assembly had drunk many drinks and so very soon they lay [19] ]down 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.
CHAPTER THREE [20]
In the morning it was Selia that woke Mr. Withersq.
“Come on Harold,” she said rising from her makeshift couch, “we know some art now, lets make a move.”
“My pet,” cried the delited Mr. Withersq, “You have called me Harold. Ah me ah me how fondly I love your charms,” and so he picked up Selia’s bag, and they went out stepping over the countess and ran into the street. Selia still a little red from her blush at Mr. Withersquashes warm words of passion.
“What about a bit of food?” she said to change the subject.
“Ah, now I will give you a fair treet,” cried Mr. Withersq brindling with glee, “for [21] ]indeed I love you at last Selia and you shall ate of the best now Unckle Burt is dead.”
“Pray how shall such as us know where to eat of the best?” scoffed Selia lightly for she had yet to learn how to treet a good noble man with properness.
“Now dont be snappy,” said Mr. Withersq who was not to be put down so easily. “It was a baroness herself last night who asked me if I offen went to the Mauve Loft, and she said it was ripping, so not so much of your scorn if you please.” So you see even our devoted Mr. Withersq could turn, which is not to be surprised at seeing he had unbroken his fast.
“What is the Mauve Loft?” snapped Selia, “what kind of a place I ask. Fletchers I know, and the Dad goes to Pim’s when he back’s a good ’un, but what is a Loft? Tell me that!”