TWO WEEKS LATER.
Awoke, aroze, washed, dressed, made me bed. Spint the bitter part of a
our or more trying to make that dummed stove burn. Its a wild wilderniss
of a place is this and its hard indade for a pure loansum innercent
female to bare the silence of the atmust-fear. Whin Miss Claire a spoke
of the country I had thort of Asbry Park or Coney Island and such like
sinsible places, but indade theres no bordwalk here at all at all and
the only kinds of bands and orkistrys is in the trees. Wirra, wirra,
wirra! The kitchens in the bastement and the dining-room a flure above.
I shuk me hed over this contrivance whin I first seen it, but Miss
Claire ses very swately:
“Now doant you be arfter wurrying about that” ses she “fur theres a dumm
waiter in the butlers pantry.”
Wid that she showed me a contrapshon in the wall, and wint to work
pulling at the ropes.
“Dumm!” ses I, shouting wid me rarth, “Is it dumm you call the dumm
thing. My God, Miss,” ses I “Its noysy enuff to waken the deff.”
“Nites enuff” ses I me milincoly hivvy on me chist, “it’ll be all nites
now for me Miss Claire.”
“You Goose!” ses she, “I don’t meen _that_ kind of Nite, but—but—you
know—a grate handsome fellar of a Nite” ses she.
“Is it a _bow_ ye’re maning?” I arsks sarcarskullully.
“Yes Delia dear.”
“And sorrer a Nite of that kind will I get Miss” ses I moanfully.
She opened her blue eyes big, and shuk her hed mysteerissly.
“Its in the cuntry they abownd” ses she.
“And lit them cum abownding” ses I snorting, “Its a foine gintlemanly
sort” ses I “wud abound into the prisince of a loidy. If it’s oanly the
bounding kind ye’re haveing here, Miss Claire, theyd bitter kape their
distance frum me kitchen.”
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