The pair had no equals in the true larrikin style, called "cass
dancing", and they revolved slowly on a space the size of a
dinner-plate, Ada's head on Jonah's breast, their bodies pressed
together, rigid as the pasteboard figures in a peep-show. They were
interrupted by a cry from Mrs Yabsley's bedroom. Jonah stopped
instantly, with a look of dismay on his face. Ada looked at him with a
curious smile, and burst out laughing.

"I'll 'ave ter put 'im to sleep now. Cum an' 'ave a look at 'im,
Joe--'e won't eat yer."

"No fear," cried Jonah, recoiling with anger. "Wot did yer promise
before I agreed to come down?"

Chook's words flashed across his mind. This was a trap, and he had
been a fool to come.

"I'll cum to-morrow, an' fix up the fowls," he cried, and grabbing his
mouth-organ, turned to go--to find his way blocked by Mrs Yabsley,
carrying a shoulder of mutton and a bag of groceries.

CHAPTER 3

CARDIGAN STREET AT HOME

Mrs Yabsley came to the door for a breath of fresh air, and surveyed
Cardigan Street with a loving eye. She had lived there since her
marriage twenty years ago, and to her it was the pick of Sydney, the
centre of the habitable globe. She gave her opinion to every newcomer
in her tremendous voice, that broke on their unaccustomed ears like
thunder:

"I've lived 'ere ever since I was a young married woman, an' I know wot
I'm talkin' about. My 'usband used ter take me to the play before we
was married, but I never see any play equal ter wot 'appens in this
street, if yer only keeps yer eyes open. I see people as wears
spectacles readin' books. I don't wonder. If their eyesight was good,
they'd be able ter see fer themselves instead of readin' about it in a
book. I can't read myself, bein' no scholar, but I can see that books
an' plays is fer them as ain't got no eyes in their 'eads."

The street, which Mrs Yabsley loved, was a street of poor folk--people
to whom poverty clung like their shirt. It tumbled over the ridge
opposite the church, fell rapidly for a hundred yards, and then,
recovering its balance, sauntered easily down the slope till it met
Botany Road on level ground. It was a street of small houses and large
families, and struck the eye as mean and dingy, for most of the houses
were standing on their last legs, and paint was scarce. The children
used to kick and scrape it off the fences, and their parents rub it off
the walls by leaning against them in a tir