Читать книгу The Diary of Delia. Being a Veracious Chronicle of the Kitchen, with Some Side-Lights on the Parlour онлайн

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“No Miss Claire” ses I firmly, getting up. “I’m for uther wark than gineral housewark.” She got up also, and her voyce sounds a bit shakey.

“Very well Delia” ses she. “Its hard on me——so much trubble——” Thin her blue eyes run over, and she walked away, wiping thim wid her handkychiff. I seen her go out the dure. I filt a sinking at me hart. Minnie Carnavan was forgotten, and like the gump she ses I am I made a grand dash fur the dure, wid all the Miss Flimflams of the Alluyunce, and the ladies thimsilves gaping after me in horrow. I seen Miss Claire half a block away, and I run after her puffing:

“Miss Claire! Darlint! Miss Claire!” I called after her. She turned about and guve me wan look. Then she made a like grand dash as mesilf. Her parrysol flew out of her hand, also her rist bag.

“‘Very well, Delia,’ ses she. ‘It’s hard on me ...

so much trouble!’”

“O Delia—you duck” ses she, and kissed me wid a smack, hugging and squazing me manewile.

There cum three yung doods marching down the Avenoo, and as Miss Claire taks me in her arms the bauld yung chaps stud still and looked at us and shmiled. Thin one bint down and keerfully picked up the parrysol and wiped it wid the sleeve of his foine gray coat. As me and Miss Claire extrycate ourselves he offers it to her wid a bow. She toorned red as a peeney and her bloo eyes guv one luk up at the dood, then drapped demoorly: