“‘Very well, Delia,’ ses she. ‘It’s hard on me ...
so much trouble!’”
“O Delia—you duck” ses she, and kissed me wid a smack, hugging and squazing me manewile.
There cum three yung doods marching down the Avenoo, and as Miss Claire taks me in her arms the bauld yung chaps stud still and looked at us and shmiled. Thin one bint down and keerfully picked up the parrysol and wiped it wid the sleeve of his foine gray coat. As me and Miss Claire extrycate ourselves he offers it to her wid a bow. She toorned red as a peeney and her bloo eyes guv one luk up at the dood, then drapped demoorly:
“Thanks” ses she, “Thanks agin” ses she, as he likewise returns her rist-bag. He lifted up his hat, waited a bit for more thanks, and thin marched aff, shmiling like his face wud bust. She smiles too, and ses I, boorsting:
“A roomance, Miss Claire! Be all the saints in hivin and airth, ye’ve luked into the eyes of your hoosband.”
“Nonsense” ses she, laffing, “you’re the same old silly sintimental Delia. Cum home deer.”
CHAPTER VII
TWO WEEKS LATER.
Awoke, aroze, washed, dressed, made me bed. Spint the bitter part of a our or more trying to make that dummed stove burn. Its a wild wilderniss of a place is this and its hard indade for a pure loansum innercent female to bare the silence of the atmust-fear. Whin Miss Claire a spoke of the country I had thort of Asbry Park or Coney Island and such like sinsible places, but indade theres no bordwalk here at all at all and the only kinds of bands and orkistrys is in the trees. Wirra, wirra, wirra! The kitchens in the bastement and the dining-room a flure above. I shuk me hed over this contrivance whin I first seen it, but Miss Claire ses very swately: