I'll land yer on the 'ead wi' me slipper, if yer don't go to bed." "I say, Mum," entreated Jonah, "will yer gimme five quid on Monday, an ask no questions ?" Mrs Yabsley's only answer was a snore.
But a week later the morning procession that trudged along Botany Road towards the city was astonished at the sight of a small shop, covered with huge calico signs displaying in staring red letters on a white ground the legend: WHILE U WAIT.
Boots and Shoes Soled and Heeled.
GENTS, 2/11; LADIES, 1/11; CHILDS, 1/6.
The huge red letters, thrown out like a defiance and a challenge, caused a sensation in the Road.

The pedestrians stopped to read the signs, looked curiously at the shop, and went on their way.

The passengers in the trams and buses craned their necks, anxious to read the gigantic advertisement before they were carried out of sight.

A group of urchins, stationed at the door, distributed handbills to the curious, containing the same announcement in bold type.
Across the street hung Paasch's dingy sign from which the paint was peeling: Repairs neatly executed GENTS, 3/6; LADIES, 2/6; CHILDS, 1/9 -- the old prices sanctioned by usage, unchangeable and immovable as the laws of nature to Paasch and the trade on Botany Road.
The shop itself was transformed.

On one side were half a dozen new chairs standing in a row on a strip of bright red carpet.