She coodled oop aginst me, thin she laned over and whispered:
“Delia, tell me the trooth, d-d-d-did you see him—k-kiss me?” ses she flushing all over.
“The yung spalpeen!” ses I, and thin she hid her face in her hand.
“Oh Delia I’m—I’m—so—ashamed I d-don’t know what to do.”
“Do!” ses I. “Why tell your brothers darlint. They’ll swape the airth wid the impidint yung spalpeen.”
“No, no, no! We must never breethe a word” ses she. “Promise me you wont, Delia,” and she sarches me face.
“Darlint” ses I “all the torchures of the dummed could not unlock me lips. Your sacred swatehart is secure in me bussum.”
Wid that she guv me a kiss, and wint steeling out agin.
“Mr. John” ses I, this marning while hes ating his loan brikfust (a cup of biling water) I’m looking for sartin infamation.
“Well fire away Delia” ses he still absarbed in his paper.