Yesterday me hart was full of feers. Its menny an effort I made to relave mesilf to Miss Claire, but for pity for the puir yung creachure me tung refused to spake.
Last nite was a nite of shocks. Mr. John cum down to the bastemint and taks possisshun after dinner of me privat dining-rume. The widder do be giving him a barskit full of seeds, frish picked from her gardin, and he’s after wanting he ses to sort thim out and mark the reyspictiv packages so he may know them nixt Spring whin hes going to have a fine gardin.
Miss Claire cum into me kitchin, wid her bloo eyes swimming wid teers.
“What will we do, Delia?” ses she, “John is in the dining-room to-nite, and I cant get him out.”
“Now don’t you be after wurriting darlint” ses I, “Shure Mr. Harry is wilcam to me kitchin.”
“But John may walk in upon us” ses she despritly.
“He’d better not” ses I, and wid that I wint to the dure and called out to Mr. John:
“Will ye be good enuff to kape your disthance from me kitchin to-nite, as its private company I’m expicting.”
“Very well Delia” ses he perlitely.
I wint outside to the bastemint dure, and wated in person for Mr. Harry. When he arrived, I tauld him the state of things, and he slipped into me kitchen. Miss Claire were sitting on me table, her little feet swinging in the air.