I wint down to me kitchen, whare I guv a peece of me mind to the grocer’s man. Shure he do be after charging the Wolleys the most oonherd of prices for the food, and whin I’m after making a complaint in the madam’s name, the raskill opp and offers me a boniss.
“And what is that?” ses I.
“Tin per sint” ses he. “Its the custom on the Poynt amang the cooks to accipt a boniss fram the tradesmen. We tak it out of the peeple thimsilves” ses he, “eyther in wate or price.”
“Is it a thafe ye’d mak me?” ses I, faulding me arms over me chist. “thin ye may thank yere stars” ses I “that Miss Claire is too angaged to be interrupted at the prisint moment, for its she hersilf wud be showing you the dure. As it is I take the tax upon mesilf.”
Wid that I saysed hauld of the broom, and drove the craychure out. I seen Miss Claire joomp oop from whare shes digging at her floury hidge, and as the thafe wint flying down the parth, wid me at his heels, both she and the dood bust out larfing, she thrying her bist to kape a strate face.
CHAPTER XII
A WEEK LATER
“Ortermobiles” ses Mr. Wolley tying his horse up feercely to the veranda post “is a meniss to our prisint civilisashun. Nowadays” ses he, “its impossible for a gintleman to drive in quite peece in aven the most seclooded porshun of the woods. The gratest evil which these damnible veehicles have brot” ses he “is its maleevilint effect upon the conshunse and disposition of modun peeble. Peeple who own these infernul evil smelling noysy cursed cars are like the victims of some orful drug—devoyed of dacinsy—of rispict—of consideration and proper mercy tord there feller beings. There shud be a lor passed making it a criminal offinse punishible by the pinnytensherry to ride the dammed masheen on the public hyways at all. Rodes and highways are the legitimut proppety of horses and pedestryians. Its a disgrace to our modun civilysashun that we have cum to such a sorry pass—a week-need trimbling fritened lot afrade to vinchure forth for feer of having our lives cut aff widout warning by these infernal veehicles.”
Wid that he mops his brow, and sets down widout looking on the shteps. I was swaping down the verandahs wid a pale of water, and had driven the family at the poynt of me broom to the lons below. Whin the auld gintleman found himself sated in a pool of the water he shoots up wid a yell. Miss Claire runs forward and trys to squaze the water out from his cote tales—larfing as her father swares.
“Poor old daddy!” ses she “I’m afrade if I let you go arfter the male much longer you’ll be a pray to nerviss prosperation.”