“The curse of true love” ses Miss Claire mornfully “never did run smoothly. O Delia” ses she “I wish I were ded!”
“Whats the thrubble, darlint?” ses I stopping me wark for a moment.
“Don’t you know?” she arsks.
“Why no darling. Do you think I’m at the kayhole all the time?”
She larfed a bit throo her teers. Then she set down, and put her chin on her little hand.
“Delia” ses she “do you know I havent spoken to Mr. Dudley for a week.”
“My God miss” ses I, “are you cutting the lad?”
She nods her hed sadly.
“The poor lad!” ses I “and he do be wayting for you ivery day at the floury hidge.”
“Papa wont let me go neer it” ses she wid a sob.
“Then why dussent the yung spalpeen cum to the house thin?” ses I indigantly.
“He did” ses she “twice—and—and James insoolted him. O Delia” ses she, and hides her face in her hands.
I drors her into me arms and pets her like a babby, while she poars out into me sympatetic eers her thrubbles.
“You know Delia” ses she “papa yused to be professer of mathymatucks............