Mr. John who is a fare sized gintleman slipped down from the arm of the chare to the seet beside her. The widder is pretty ploomp hersilf and they squeezed up closely thegither, leaning aginst aich other and spooning like yung fokes, he being thirty if he’s a day and she a widder.
“Now that I’ve got the rite to interfeer” ses she after a moment, “I’m going to do it wid a vinginse. Hold on a bit” ses she, pooshing him aff from her, “Now lissin to sense, John Wolley. Go upstares and tell Claire I want to spake to her.”
“Spake to her to-morrow” ses he.
“No” ses she, shaking her hed desidedly, “John” ses she, “you an I have a whole life yet to spind thegither. I can spare you for a little wile. I came to-day upon a partikuler errant. I had sumthing to say to Claire, but first it was necissery for me to have the rite to say it. The proposul and—ah—acciptunse was a meer dyagrisshun, and wile I confiss to a shameliss weekniss for your shtyle of wooing darlint, yit I’m not to be swurved from the objick of me misshun. There! Go and get Claire, and whin I’m throo wid her cum back” ses she.
Finally, wid more airging, she injooced the puir lover to go after his sister, and whin he’s brot Miss Claire back, she waves her hands airily and ses:
“Begone! I want to spake to your sister aloan.”
Whin they were aloan she farely beemed upon Miss Claire, and then:
“And now to resoom deer” ses she “I was about to say sumthing to you whin your brother interripted.”
“Mrs. Bangs” ses Miss Claire, wid agytashun, “plase don’t—don’t talk to me aboot——”
“Harry?” ses the widder, wid her eyes raysed up. “Why me deer” ses she, “who has a better rite to talk to you about your luvver than yure sister deer” ses she swately.