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Weller, removing his pipe to make way for the remark. 'Yes, I think it is rayther good, observed Sam, highly flattered. 'Wot I like in that 'ere style of writin', said the elder Mr. Weller, 'is, that there ain't no callin' names in it no Wenuses, nor nothin' o' that kind. Wot's the good o' callin' a young 'ooman a Wenus or a angel, Sammy? 'Ah! what, indeed? replied Sam.
"Let me in!" he shouted. "I'm the only man in London besides yourself that hasn't been pulped by the Mash-Glance." He then began to jabber lines from the classics, and examples from the Latin grammar. A sudden thought occurred to me. Perhaps he might translate the observation of the Wenus. Should I use him as an interpreter?
I stood petrified, staring at his glazing eyes; then, turning to make for the scullery, was confronted by the catastrophic apparition of the tallest Wenus gazing at me with reproachful eyes and extended tentacles. Disgust at my cruel act and horror at my extraordinary habiliments were written all too plainly in her seraphic lineaments. At least, so I thought.
"But we cahn't, you know," said the lady with the fringed forehead; "Hagnes is gone on to New York, and there's nobody to do Wenus." "Yes, you know," demanded the first speaker, "oo's to do Wenus? "Bella's to do Wenus," said a third. There was an outcry at this, and "'Ow ever would she get herself up for 'Venus?" and "W'at a guy she'll look!" and "Nonsense!
"Oh, Dolfy, yer said yer loved me; yer knows yer did; dat yer didn't care for money; dat I was a Wenus in yer eyes oh oh!" "Wal, I do declar!" cried Vic. Dolf flew into a great rage. "Miss Clorindy, yer sorrow makes yer forget yerself; yer've ben a dreaming." Clo drew her apron from her eyes and looked at him; lightning was gathering there which he would have done well to heed, but he did not.
"Venus!" I bawled, "Venus!" "Yes," said Pendriver, "Venus. What about it?" "Why," I said, "there are people from Venus in Kensington Gardens." "Venus in Kensington Gardens!" he replied. "No, it's not Venus; it's the Queen." I began to get angry. "Not the statue," I shouted. "Wisitors from Wenus. Make copy. Come and see! Copy! Copy!" The word "copy" galvanised him, and he came, spade and all.
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