“Sir” ses Mr. Wolley, “if yure yung ass of a sun—I yuse the word advisedly” ses he “has been making a fool of himsilf over a girl in me imploy, I am not intrusted in the affare. Will you be good enuff to go to the back dure.” Wid that he’s about to open the dure, when he seen me standing there. “Delia!” ses he, “Heres your yung man’s father. Just tak him into the kitchen.” Old Mr. Dudley seemed aboot to boorst, but befure he cud spake, Mr. James tuk him by the arm and lid him gintly but firmly to the kitchen dure. As I was about to follow Mr. Wolley saised hauld of me slave. “Delia!” ses he, wispering excitedly, “is _Claire_ doon stares?” [Illustration: “‘Go away John! Go away!’ ses she, ‘you shan’t open the dure.’” ] “N-no—yes—indade I don’t know sir” ses I and I picked up me aprun and begun to cry into it. We disinded to me kitchin—Mr. Wolley, Mr. James and auld Mr. Dudley, who shtumbled on the dark steps and sneezed whin he got to the bottom. In the kitchin we cum upon a straynge site. Miss Claire was standing wid her back aginst me china closet; her eyes were big and wild looking, and she kept talking to Mr. John who stud befure her. “Go away, John! Go away!” ses she. “You shan’t open the dure! You shan’t! You shan’t!” ses she. Then she seen us all and she guv a little cry. “Delia! O Delia!” ses she, “don’t let him. He—he soospicts sumthing,” ses she, and then she poot her hed down on me shoulder and burst into teers. I herd Mr. Harry moving in the closet, and I belave the yung chap must have herd Miss Claire weeping, for joost as she boorst into teers, he forced open the dure. For a moment he stud blinking, and thin he seen us all. He guv a look first at his father and as the auld gintleman wint tord him he drew himsilf up stiff and faced him. “Well sir!” ses the auld fellow, choking wid rage, “so this is whare ye’ve been spinding your avenings—in the kitchen of these contemtyble pinny-a-liners.” “One moment” ses the lad, and suddintly he turned to Miss Claire, and poot an arm about her, but befure he cud draw her to him, Mr. James had dashed forward. “Dam you!” ses he, “tak your hands aff me sister!” Wid that he rinched thim apart. Yung Dudley toorned very pail, but he smiled quarely, as he moved tord the dure. “Claire!” ses he, spaking clear over the heds of ivery wan, “raymimber darlint that we love aich other. All will cum rite yet deerest” ses he. Thin ignoaring and pooshing past his little angry father he made his way to the bastemint dure and out. Mr. Dudley stud a minit looking aboot him his thin lips poorsed ap in a snarling shmile. He adrissed himself to Mr. Wolley, but his eyes was on Miss Claire.