The Open Air 



cheeky than his companion, began to talk to her. 

 " That's a nice nosegay, now give us a rose. Come 

 and ride there's plenty of room. Won't speak? 

 Now, you'll tell us if this is the road to London 

 Bridge." She nodded. She was dressed in full satin 

 for Sunday; her class think much of satin. She was 

 leading two children, one in each hand, clean and 

 well-dressed. She walked more lightly than a servant 

 does, and evidently lived at home ; she did not go to 

 service. Tossing her head, she looked the other way, 

 for you see the fellow on the shutter was dirty, not 

 " dressed " at all, though it was Sunday, poor folks' 

 ball-day ; a dirty, rough fellow, with a short clay pipe 

 in his mouth, a chalky-white face apparently from 

 low dissipation a disreputable rascal, a monstrously 

 impudent " chap," a true London mongrel. He 

 " cheeked " her; she tossed her head, and looked the 

 other way. But by-and-by she could not help a sly 

 glance at him, not an angry glance a look as much 

 as to say, " You're a man, anyway, and you've the 

 good taste to admire me, and the courage to speak to 

 me; you're dirty, but you're a man. If you were 

 well-dressed, or if it wasn't Sunday, or if it was dark, 

 or nobody about, I wouldn't mind; I'd let you 

 ' cheek ' me, though I have got satin on." The fellow 

 " cheeked " her again, told her she had a pretty face, 

 " cheeked " her right and left. She looked away, but 

 half smiled; she had to keep up her dignity, she did 

 not feel it. She would have liked to have joined 

 company with him. His leer grew leerier the low, 

 cunning leer, so peculiar to the London mongrel, that 

 seems to say, " I am so intensely knowing; I am so 

 very much all there; " and yet the leerer always 

 remains in a dirty dress, always smokes the coarsest 

 tobacco in the nastiest of pipes, and rides on a barrow 



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