Very abominable to this girl is grammar, which is all but invariably set at defiance by her. Thus, even when she does not say "it were," as did Mrs. Cluppins, she favours such phrasing as "those sort of," "very pleased," "different to" and "between you and I." [Illustration: A model] Her predilection for abbreviations is another marked feature of the vulgar girl. To "'bus" she has lately added "biz," and "spec" has found her approval. The pity of it! Just as she has always a favourite word, she has mostly a favourite phrase. In one instance known to me it is "You know what I mean," and everyone knows what she means, as well everyone may. Take this assertion-- "It's one of those schools where they sleep in carbuncles--you know what I mean." Of course everyone knows what she means. [Illustration] Or take this-- "I can't be in six or seven places at one; I'm not omnivorous--you know what I mean." [Illustration: not omnivorous] Of course everyone knows what she means. They call her Mrs. Malaprop; but, in point of fact, her case is a notable improvement upon that of Sheridan's heroine, the ignorance of that lady having been of a shade by just so much deeper that it left her unwitting of the fact that she was wrong. The girl here in view has a shrewd suspicion that she is wrong, but pays her hearers the compliment of assuming that they will understand her. In only one instance, so far as has come to my knowledge, has she ever overtaxed her listener's powers of comprehension. She spoke of a living novelist. "I can't bear his books," she said. "They're so very _femme de chambre_--you know what I mean." Not only did the person addressed not know what she meant, but he will not now be induced to believe that she meant "_fin de siècle_," and unconsciously used what, it seems to some of us, was a very happy substitute for this rather hackneyed phrase. I have in the foregoing dwelt more particularly on what is to me the most striking fact in connection with the vulgar girl, the base uses to which she puts her native speech; that my account of her may not, however, be wholly inadequate, I have also conferred with persons whose views on manners and deportment, as frequently expressed by them, have led me to believe that they may be better able than I am to point out what, from the social standpoint, constitutes a vulgar girl. Of the many _data_ supplied me, I give below a few. The vulgar girl is "arch." The vulgar girl is "coy." The vulgar girl loves "chaff." The vulgar girl has sidelong looks. The vulgar girl calls milk "cream" and bacon "ham." The vulgar girl shouts or whispers. The vulgar girl thinks all other girls vulgar. [Illustration: An extreme view] The vulgar girl has never been told, or has been told in vain, to sit up and put her knees together. The vulgar girl is the girl of whom the vulgar boy says that she is "not half a bad sort." (_To be continued._) "OUR HERO."