“Behind the grille is a nice young man.
And he’ll give my clew to me.”
“Going?” said Tish thoughtfully. “‘’Most anywhere else’? There’s no sense to that.” The hay, however, had brought back Aggie’s hay fever, and as sneezing hurt her neck, she was utterly wretched.
“There’s a heap of sedse,” she said in a petulant voice. “Bost adywhere else would suit be all right. Ad if you’re goig to try that dabbed bachide agaid, Tish Carberry, I ab dot.”
“If you must swear, Aggie,” Tish reproved her, “go outside, and do not pollute the clean and wholesome fragrance of this hay.”
“I’d have said worse if I knew adythig worse,” said Aggie. “And bebbe this hay is wholesobe, but if you had by dose you wouldn’t thig so.”
“Grille?” said Tish. “A nice young man behind a grille? Is there a grillroom at the Eden Inn?”
But we could not remember any, and we finally hit on the all-night restaurant in town, which had.
“‘’Most anywhere else’ must refer to that,” Tish said. “The food is probably extremely poor. And while there we can get a sandwich or so and eat it on the way. I confess to a feeling of weakness.”
“Weakness!” said Aggie bitterly. “Thed I dod’t ever wadt to see you goig strog, Tish Carberry!”