“O Delia!” ses Miss Claire, “be nice or I don’t see how I’ll dare to ask a speshul favour of you.”
“Favour is it?” ses I toorning upon her. She roon ap to me, and befure I can shpake anuther word, shes got her arms about me.
“Now lissen deer” ses she. “I’ve finished me floury hidge and this afternoon I must shtart on the beds. You do the digging for me like an angel” ses she.
“Digging is it? Do you tak me for——”
“Please, please” ses she.
“It depinds intirely on how the loonch goes” ses I gruffly. “Now raymimber not wan ward of crittersickem will I be heering to.”
“Not wan word” ses she.
After she had gone I dischuvvered that there was’nt a speck of tea in the house and exactly three coffee beens oanly. I wint upshstairs speshully to infarm Miss Claire. “Be careful now” ses I “to ignoar the subject. Lit your gests think ye’ve forgotten the biverage.”
All wint well for loonch, till Mr. James, soospecting the thruth, ondertook to refer to me hash as “patty de 4 grass a la Delia” a dish ses he of our Delia’s own invinshun. I guv wan look at Miss Claire, and she changed the subject. Thin Mrs. Wolley asked the lady which she wud have—coffee or tee, and before the unforchnit craychure cud answer I spoke up at wance:
“Ye’ll get neyther” ses I.