"No e ayn t," the man cried heatedly. " E s a
Yank, that s wot e is. I know."

"Lord lumme, look a that," she exclaimed, as
we debouched upon the Strand, choked with the
roaring, reeling Coronation crowd, the men bellow
ing and the girls singing in high throaty notes:

/tab\Oh ! on Coronation D y, on Coronation D y,
/tab\We ll ave a spree, a jubilee, an shout Ip, ip, ooray.
/tab\For we ll all be merry, drinkin whiskey, wine, and sherry,
/tab\We ll be merry on Coronation D y.

"Ow dirty I am, bein around the w y I ave," the
woman said, as she sat down in a coffee-house,
wiping the sleep and grime from the corners of her
eyes. " An the sights I ave seen this d y, an I
enjoyed it, though it was lonesome by myself. An
the duchesses an the lydies ad sich gran w ite
dresses. They was jest bu ful, bu ful."

"I m Irish," she said, in answer to a question.
"My nyme s Eyethorne."

"What ? " I asked.

"Eyethorne, sir; Eyethorne."

"Spell it."

"H-a-y-t-h-o-r-n-e, Eyethorne."

"Oh," I said, " Irish Cockney."

"Yes, sir, London-born."

She had lived happily at home till her father
died, killed in accident, when she had found her-

[[152]]

p151 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p152w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p153

v?