“Sir” ses Mr. Wolley, “if yure yung ass of a sun—I yuse the word advisedly” ses he “has been making a fool of himsilf over a girl in me imploy, I am not intrusted in the affare. Will you be good enuff to go to the back dure.”
Wid that he’s about to open the dure, when he seen me standing there.
“Delia!” ses he, “Heres your yung man’s father. Just tak him into the kitchen.”
Old Mr. Dudley seemed aboot to boorst, but befure he cud spake, Mr. James tuk him by the arm and lid him gintly but firmly to the kitchen dure. As I was about to follow Mr. Wolley saised hauld of me slave.
“Delia!” ses he, wispering excitedly, “is Claire doon stares?”
“‘Go away John! Go away!’ ses she, ‘you shan’t open the dure.’”
“N-no—yes—indade I don’t know sir” ses I and I picked up me aprun and begun to cry into it.
We disinded to me kitchin—Mr. Wolley, Mr. James and auld Mr. Dudley, who shtumbled on the dark steps and sneezed whin he got to the bottom. In the kitchin we cum upon a straynge site. Miss Claire was standing wid her back aginst me china closet; her eyes were big and wild looking, and she kept talking to Mr. John who stud befure her.
“Go away, John! Go away!” ses she. “You shan’t open the dure! You shan’t! You shan’t!” ses she. Then she seen us all and she guv a little cry.