A CHILD OF THE JAGO
almost to the door of the club-room, but he could get no farther, and now he stood compressed, bounded on the face by Cocko Harnwell's coat-tails and on the back of the head by Fluffy Pike's moleskin waistcoat, with pearlies down the front and the artful dodge over the pockets. Pud Palmer—one of the reception committee—was singing. He accompanied his chorus by a step dance, and all the company stamped in sympathy:—
"She's a fighter, she's a biter, she's a swearer, she's a tearer.
The gonophs down aar alley they calls 'er Rorty Sal;
But as I'm a pertikiler sort a' bloke, I calls 'er Rorty Sairer,
I'm goin'—"
Crack!—Crash!
Dicky clung to Cocko Harnwell's coat-tails lest he were trampled to death; and for a while he was flung about, crushed
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