I fownd me way home aloan, Larry the crool harted miscreent wid his avoreeshus hart having obeyed the order of Mr. Dudley. As I cum into me kitchin I fownd the hole Wolley family, wid the ixcipshun of Mrs. Wolley and the babby, waiting for me.
“Whare have you been?” shouted Mr. James, and Mr. Wolley guv me a look fit to kill me.
“Theres no yuse attimting to desave us Delia” ses Mr. John quietly, the only cam wan of the boonch, “The Dudley charfer tillyfoned us the facks a minit sense. Now, whares Claire. I presoom” ses he, “they were stopped in time?”
“Not by a dummed site sir” ses I, gitting turribly inraged wid the site of the thray strapping men pursooing the puir yung luving harted crachures. “They’ve got a good start of that desateful Larry Mulvaney, and Mr. Harry himsilf has got the wheel.”
Mr. Wolley let out a larf of scorn.
“Boys” ses he, “me new carbureater arrived yistiday. We’ll ovetake that Frinch car in harf an our.”
Wid that they all wint for the barn, got out the car and in there exsitemint let me climb in wid them also.
Well, we wint spinning at a turrible speed along the auld Boston Post Road but never a site did we get of the Dudley Frinch car.
The roads was turrible for the stiddy rains of the larst week do be cutting it up into ditches, and manny a time me hart was in me mouth feering we’d be going into the gutter. The nite was pitch dark and the ilictrick lites over harf the road being out wid the lightning.
As we cam whissing along over a wild and loansum cuntry we herd a straynge sownd, like samewan hollering for hilp, and then we seen a lite ahed. We roon up beside it and there in the road was anuther masheen. It was so dark we cud not see the gintleman but whin I herd his voyce I guv a start.