Miss Claire laves her floury hidge and dood, and wint running forward, wid her little muddy hands hild out. I seesed hauld of an aprun on the line and tied it on me. Thin I wint to anser the dure. Miss Claire is leeding them on to the veranda.
“I’m Miss Wolley” ses she, “you find us all ingaged at our respictuf toyle. My brother James cuts the grass, John’s the vigitable gardiner, and I rayse swate flours——”
“What fun!” ses the widder clasping her hands, “How perfeckly deliteful. It mus be just like playing, is’nt it,” and she turned her big black eyes on Mr. John.
“Will ye walk inside” ses I, braking in here, “Mrs. Wolley will be down in a moment. Shes not well, but she’s for seeing you. Joost have a seet, she ses.”
“O lets sit out here!” ses the widder. “You were talking of your gardin?” ses she turning to Mr. John wid a smile.
“—er yes” ses he. “But I’m a mere noviss. Do you understand anything about the art?”
“Do I?” ses she, sitting in the saftest veranda chare, “Why I’ve a reppytashun in the Poynt for me vigitibles. Have’nt I Una?” and she appealed to her frind, who has just infarmed Mr. James that sumtimes she cuts her papa’s lons wid her own fare hands, jest for exsysise.
“Yes” ses Miss Una, nodding her pretty hed, “Why” ses she “theres a sertin kind of turnip nown to fame as The Widdy Jane.”
“Una!” ses the widder larfing, “but relly” ses she turning back to Mr. John agin “I manage my own little farm all mesilf.”
I let Mrs. Wolley out thru the fly dure and thin the auld gintleman wint out, also wid his face red and shining from the quick shave he’s given it. They all torked and larfed and thin finully got up to go. Thin Miss Claire asks carelessly.