“Silk gownds, and satin gownds, and welwet gownds,” he replied, “and gownds—some trimmed with wot looks like paper cut into ’oles, and gownds made o’ little round ’oles hall over. And the bonnets in them shops! My heyes, Flo! them bonnets ’ave got about hevery bird in Saint Martin’s Lane killed and stuffed, and stuck in ’em. But come,” he added, hastily bringing his vivid description to a close, “the lords and ladies will be gone.”
He held the slight little fingers placed in his, with a firm hold, and together they trotted swiftly from their dark Saint Giles’s cellar, to the bright fairy-land of Regent Street.
There were plenty of people, and carriages, and grand ladies and gentlemen still there; and the dresses were so fine, and the feathers so gay, that Flo, when she found herself really in their midst, was speechless, and almost stunned. She had dreamed of this day for months—this day, when Dick was to show her the other side of London life, and she had meant when the time came to enter into it all, to realise it if possible.
She and Dick were to carry out quite a pretty play; they were to suppose themselves a grand lady and gentleman; Flo was to single out the nicest looking and most beautifully dressed lady present, and imagine herself that lady; those clothes were her clothes, those silken dresses, those elegant boots and gloves, that perfect little bonnet, were all Flo’s; the carriage with its spirited horses was hers, and the fine gentleman with the splendid moustache seated by her side, was none other than Dick.
They had arranged the whole programme; the carriage was to drive off rapidly—where?
Well, first Dick said they would stop at a restaurant, and instead of, as the real Flo and Dick did, standing a sniffin’ and a sniffin’ outside, they would walk boldly in, and order—well, beef, and potatoes, and plum-pudding were vulgar certainly, but once in a way they would order these for dinner. Then back in the carriage to Swan and Edgar’s, where Flo would have the creamiest of silk dresses, and a new bonnet with a pink tip, and Dick, who was supposed to be in perfect attire as it was, would talk loudly of “my tailor,” and buy the most beautiful flower, from the first flower-girl he met, to put in his button-hole. Then at night they would have a box at the theatre.
Their whole plan was very brilliantly constructed, and Dick, having got Flo into a capital position, just opposite a row of lovely dresses, with carriages close up to the footway, and grand ladies sweeping against her tattered gown each moment, was very anxious for her to begin to carry out their play.
“Come, Flo,” he said, giving her a nudge. “S’pose a bit, Flo. Which fine lady’ll yer be? Look at that ’ere little ’un, in blue and white, I guess she’s an hearl’s wife. Come, Flo, choose to be her. I’ll be the hearl, and you the hearl’s wife, Flo.”
“Be hearls the biggest swells?” asked Flo.
Dick opened his eyes.