"Wait an see," shoo sed, "yo shall smook a pipe to-neet."
He wondered ha it wor to be done, an at fower o'clock shoo sent him off to th' stashun to meet her father.
When they gate back th' whole haase wor full o' bacca smook, in bedrooms an passages, on th' steps, in th' sittin rooms, ther wor thick white claads ov it.
"Oh, dear-a-me," sed Mr. Mothersdale, "whativvers this? Sydney yo've brokken yor promise, an been smookin?"
"Aw haven't," Sidney sed, "nivver a whif hav aw smook'd sin th' day aw promised."
"Noa," Mabel sed, "we've faand a better way nor that, we're booath fond o'th reek o' bacca, soa we get a fumigatin thing aght o'th greenhaase, and burn bacca in it, it sents all th' haase i' noa time, an saves Sydney all th' trubble o' puffin away at pipes an cigars."
He felt he wor done—he couldn't live i' sich a smook as that, soa he tell'd Sydney at if he'd keep his smookin aght o'th raich o' his nooas, he could start when he liked, providin they wodn't use th' fumigator noa mooar.
Sidney slipt aght into th' back garden, an smook'd what he thowt wor th' best cigar he'd ivver had in his life; an as it says in stooary books "they all lived varry happy ivver afterwards."