“And sorrer a Nite of that kind will I get Miss” ses I moanfully.
She opened her blue eyes big, and shuk her hed mysteerissly.
“Its in the cuntry they abownd” ses she.
“And lit them cum abownding” ses I snorting, “Its a foine gintlemanly sort” ses I “wud abound into the prisince of a loidy. If it’s oanly the bounding kind ye’re haveing here, Miss Claire, theyd bitter kape their distance frum me kitchen.”
CHAPTER VIII
A FEW DAYS LATER
Awoke—aroze—washed—dressed—made me bed—Imtied me slops.
I tuk a bit of paper from Mr. John’s desk, and I penned the follering warning in plane litters and langwidge:
BRIKFUST SARVED
AT 8 OANLEY