“Mr. Wolley cum crorling frum underneath the ortermobile.”
We wint across the barn, but see nothing but wan of thim red tooring cars. We’ve cum close to the ortermobile whin Mr. James makes a discuvery. Theres sumwan lying undernathe the masheen. He’s hammering on sumthing, and theres a lited lantern on the flure beside him. Just as the discuvery was made, Mr. John likewise seen the feet; then Miss Claire reckynised her papa’s boots and me his hat. Mrs. Wolley nelt down and looked under the masheen. Then she guv a scrame.
“Charles!” ses she and almost faints. Mr. Wolley cum crorling frum undernathe the ortermobile. He looks a site, wid his face cuvvered clane wid dirt and his hands dripping down wid greese.
He guv a look about him, seen us all, and drapped his mouth open wid astonishment. Joost then Mr. James burst out larfing, and the hole blessed family joyned in.
“You dummed old frord” ses Mr. James.
“What do you meen sor?” ses Mr. Wolley.
“Whares Miss Flyte?” asks Mr. John.
The auld fellow looked sheepish, and he guv a look back at the ortermobile.
“Well, ye may as well no the thruth” ses he, “Ive made a good invistmint. I’ve bort Miss Flyte. She’s a ginooine bargin, better than anny Frinch imported car, and at quarter the price. I’ve been coming avenings to lern how to run and understand her. Isn’t she a booty?” ses he, turning to his new infachuation.