I thort Mr. John must be tearing up his paper, from the noyse of its russeling. I pressed up closer to the dure.
“Claire, my deer” ses he, “I beg you think befure you spake. I’ve never handled a horse in me life. If you contimplate the purchase of a baste, you will have to hire a man to care for it. I draw” ses he “the lines at stable work.”
“Very well” ses she, “you can go walk the mile or 2 to the village after the mail.”
“We’ll take turn about” ses Mr. John.
“What!” shouts Mr. James, “and me wid my grass cutting!”
“To orffset that” ses Miss Claire, “John can rayse our vigitables.”
“My deer child—” began Mr. John “I know not the first thing of—er——”
“You’re all just horrid.” ses Miss Claire and she pushed back her chare. “Very well then, I wash my hands of the hole affare.”
“James” ses Mr. Wolley in sturn commanding toans, “You will cut the lons as intercated by your sister. John” ses he “I will expect you to rayse addecut vigitables for the table.”
“Daddy” ses Miss Claire, “you’ll go to the Post-Office wont you like an angel?”