Her singular phraseology, which she conceives to set her at an advantage, in reality sometimes sets the vulgar girl at a disadvantage. Of Tennyson she said the other day—
"I don't pretend to understand him any more than Browning, but then he tootles on prettily, and that's what I like in poetry."
A main difference between Browning and Tennyson was here correctly set forth, but the phrasing was in questionable taste. "Tootles" is a good word, but to say that Tennyson "tootles on prettily," is to understate his merits. It shall here be pointed out in passing that "I don't pretend" is a favourite form of asseveration with the vulgar girl, and is one which she should try to vary, if only because it inferentially asserts that other people do pretend.
The vulgar girl is "by way of being" (her own phrase) witty. One part of her wit is to say "muchly" for much, and another part of it is to say "free gratis" for free of charge.
Flippancy as a substitute for wit so often evokes mirth that the vulgar girl as would-be wit not incomprehensibly largely indulges in it. I sat beside her once during a performance of Beethoven's Septett, one of the loveliest things in music, with here and there a heart-delighting gaiety in it. During the fifth movement of it she whispered to me—
"Isn't it like 'The Bogie Man'?"
The levity in what follows was even more remarkable. The speaker was a young bride.