“Did see, mum,” said Edward, who was wise in his generation, and had learned the art of making his head save his heels—“goloshes is in the lobby.”
“Goloshes is in the plural, Edward, and should be are—mind that: goloshes are.”
“Yes, mum—galoshes are,” said Edward; “and the letter-bag are just come into the kitchen. Shall I fetch it?”
“Is, Edward, is. Now do, pray, be careful. Nothing is more annoying to visitors than to hear servants make grammatical mistakes.”
“Yes, mum,” said Edward.
“Is the heater very hot?”
“Yes, mum—white ’ot.”
“White what, Edward?”
“’Ot, mum! white ’ot!”
Miss Matilda Rea, a rather compressed, squeezy lady of forty-five, shuddered, and rearranged her black net mittens.