1st draft, 1932, II.2§4 draft level 0

MS British Library 47478 239-241 Draft details

{ms, 239}

Scribbledehobbles are |aat bent ona| their pensums|a, reading nails & biting lipsa|. Trifid tongue |aothers woo & work fora| |xthe backslapper gladhanderx| and dove without gall |aand she whose mind's a jackdaw's nest of |btearing up letters she never wroteb| |bfor when her hair's in a queer moodb|a| to solve dulcarnon's |adire |bhorned twohornheadedb|a| dilemma what stumped bold Alexander and drove him to pulfer turnips. But|a, my hat,a| what a world of weariness is theirs |awaiting to hear their own mistakesa|! For how many guildens would one walk now to to the pillar? For one hundred? For one hundred's thousands? And to what will't all serve them in an after |areerawa|
{ms, 240}
world. Will it make of one a good milker |ahaving been brought up on superlativesa|? Will he go away |ain a peajacketa| and not be silly? Or where will he find funds to smoke a whole box of matches per day? Or if she makes an earth of heaven will she lilt Barney take me home again? As long as Una reads serials in a bummeltrain |awith a lot of unexciting trousers abouta| |ait is wholly probable that thea| |aholy parablea| the worst at least at last may happen,
{ms, 241}
such as go to meet Mary, miss Mamy & marryº Meg. Why ask her |aor Tossy Maddena| sense from what she's read since every annual has its own aroma? Quid vobis videtur And even the remembering a tree is too beautiful for her to listen. Small blame to her then if she shook her shoe off at geography class, doing rivers of India, with a whisper of wilfulove heard round the world.