This marnin’ wen I wint to open the door to tak in the papers a strange site greeted me eyes. “My God!” ses I aloud, “is it snowing in Orgust.”
Thin I seen Mr. John. He had wun of me dish pans in his hands and it seemed to be full of holes, fer sumthing white do be scattering from the bottom of it all over the place. I throwed up me hands in horrow. Just thin I seen the widdy, and she likewise had a pan and was scattering the white doost in another place. She guv me a smile:
“Good marning Delia!” ses she, “we’re goin’ to surprise Mr. Jimmy. We’re pooting sumthing on his drives wich will kill all grass and weeds. It’s salt,” ses she. “My conshunse John Wolley!” she screemed, “what are you doing?”
Mr. John was bizzy wid his pan around Miss Claire’s floury hidge wich is a sorry enuff looking hidge, being that the weeds and grarss have grown out thick wid only a poor little flour to pike up its hed here and there. Mr. John do be throwing the salt wid a ginerous hand over the sad looking hidge.
“Why,” ses he, “I’m killing the weeds in poor little Claire’s garden.”
The widdy threw doon her pan and set upon it.
“You do beat the dooch!” ses she, “why you gander,” ses she, “doant you know ye’ll kill the flours too. John Wolley, I’ve harf a mind to shake you and I will too!” ses she. Wid that she roon acrost to him, wid her hands hild out—but befure she can tooch him, he grabbed her aboot the waste, and kissed her plump on the lips.
“You retch!” ses she, “and befure Delia too! Oh-h!” ses she, and stamps her foot.
Its cleening day. Nobody but a dummed eediot wud put the desateful looking matting down on dacint flures. The doost and dirt finds a natchell place to settle down betwane the cracks. As I was rubbing it over wid a damp cloth in Mr. Wolley’s stoody he came in wid the male. In wan hand he held a grate boonch of letters, in the other one ploomp fine looking litter by itsilf. He looks queer.
“Has Mr. James gone to town yet?” he asks.
“No sir” ses I. “Its riting at home he is to-day. He’s in his room, sir.”
“Ah!” ses the auld gintleman, and joost thin Miss Claire cum into the room.
Her cheeks are flooshed and she looks excited and ankshus.
“You have a letter for me papa, havent you?” ses she.
The auld gintleman had throost the fat letter hastily into his pocket. As Miss Claire spoke he now fussed over the boonch in his uther hand.
“Let me see” ses he, going over thim, “No—theres nuthing my deer” ses he.
She seemed so disappoynted that for a moment she joost stared at the auld gintleman. Then she ses gintly:
“Papa, wasnt there an English male in yisterday?”
“I belave there was” ses he.
She put out her hand impetchussly and ses she:
“Let me see, papa?”
She wint over the letters wan be wan. She picked out wan little roll, and she ses:
“Nothing—nothing at all for me—ixcipt this.” Thin she wint out from the room suddintly.
The auld gintleman looked after her wid a look fool of compashun and guilt. Then he sneeked out of the room.
“You auld divil!” ses I to mesilf, “Its a letter ye’ve got in your pockit for Miss Claire, and the puir thing shull have it if I have to turn thafe to get it for her.”
Wid that I wint after the auld rascal. I hurd the dure of Mr. James’s room shut, and I wint into the bathroom adjyning, and wid wan eer to the dure I lissened.
“James——” ses Mr. Wolley stipping in.
“What the——” began Mr. James and I herd him hopping up in his seet. “I’m bizzy father” ses he. “I must get out this artuckle at latest by noon to-day” ses he “What is it? What is it?”
“James” ses Mr. Wolley, “I’m afrade yure sister——”
“For hivin’s sake father” ses the lad “hoory up. Jest what is it?”
There was silinse for a moment, juring which I knowed from instink Mr. Wolley had tuk out Miss Claire’s litter and shown it to his son. I prissed up close aginst the dure, but the key was inside and I cud see not a thing. Then I herd Mr. Wolley say:
“You see it is as we feered. They are corry——”
“Hauld on!” ses Mr. James lowering his voyce, and again there followed a sylinse. Suddintly the dure flew open and I fell upon me face into the room. Mr. James saized me by the neck of me gown and hauled me oop.
“Delia!” ses he, “ef I ever catch you at sich a thrick again, I’ll—I’ll throw you out of the winder” ses he. “Now git!” ses he, and I sloonk aff in shame.
I was coming down the stares, skurce looking whare I wint, whin all of a suddint I seen sumthing which sint me hart flying into me mouth. There by the winder was Miss Claire stritched out on the floor. Her face looked orful white, and for a moment the dredful thort cam into me hed that the poor yung thing was ded. I screamed wid frite and agunny, and I joomped doon the rist of the stares and run to the child. The paper was on the floor beside her—a torn peece of noospaper and I seen the pincil marks in blue upon it. The family cam rooshing down whin they herd me scream and at the site of Miss Claire they all seemed about to faynt also. Mrs. Wolley guv a friteful scream, and Mr. ............