It gave poor LIL 'ARRIS the 'orrors. "Lor, 'ARRY," she sez, coming out, "They've styged it, no doubt, tol-lol-poppish, but wot _is_ the 'ole thing about? I feel just as creepy and 'oller, along o' these 'ere warmed-up ghosts, As if I'd bin dining on spiders. Eugh! Let's 'ave a glarss at 'The Posts.'" It took two 'ot tiddleys to warm 'er. An' when I was blowin' a cloud A-top o' the tram going 'ome, she sez, "'ARRY," sez she, "_I_ ain't proud, But don't tyke me never no more to no New Woman nonsense," sez she. "It's narsty; and not one good snivel _or_ larf in the whole jamboree. "I don't call them _people_, I don't." "No; they're probblems, _Lil_, that's wot _they_ are. She-probblem a tearin' 'er 'air, whilst the he-probblem sucks 'is cigar; Two gurl-probblems sniffing at Marriage, that played-out old farce--at sixteen!-- I thought we was fair up-to-date, _Lil_, but, bless yer, we're simply pea-green!" And when we arrived at Lamb's Conduit Street, old DANNEL 'ARRIS'S shop, His old Dutch got fair on the grind, and when started she's orkud to stop. "New Woman?" sez she. "_She_'s no clarss, LIL, and don't know a mite where she are. Yah! _We_ used to call 'em Old Cats; and a sootabler name, too, by far. "There ain't nothink new in _their_ Newness; it's only old garbige warmed up. Mere bubble-and-squeak. The stale taters and greens on which poor people sup Is 'olesome compared with sich offal. Yah! Weddings'll outlast _that_ lot; And while gals is gals the old Eve'll jest make the new evil seem rot." The jawsome old guffin wos right, _Charlie_; leastways, she wosn't fur out. Yer female footballers and bikers, as swagger and go on the shout, And spile a good sport _and_ their hancles, are not more complete off the track Than them as "revolt"--agin Nature, and cock their she-bokos--at fack! All splutter-sludge, CHARLIE! On styge or on cinder-path, sillypop things As want to play Man and _be_ Woman are trying to fly without wings, Or fight without fistes. Are Men, the world's masters--like you, mate, and Me-- To be knocked out by probblems in petticoats? Wot bloomin' fiddle-de-dee! The Old Dutch, and young LIL, and myself are all much of a mind on this job. Old 'ARRIS sez men are not in it. _He_ don't mean it, I'll bet a bob. It ain't very likely, not now, that Yours Scrumptiously ever _will_ marry; But _if_ I should tyke a Old Woman, it won't be no New Woman! 'ARRY. * * * * * [Illustration: _Edith._ "I DON'T BELIEVE JACK WILL EVER LEARN TO DANCE!" _Alice_ (_whose dress has suffered_). "WORSE THAN THAT--HE WILL NEVER LEARN NOT TO ATTEMPT IT!"]