“Is this the Planet? Yiss, Well I want the idiotoryell departmint. Hello” ses she, “I want to spake to Mr. Allun—Allun—I sed Allun” ses she gitting exsited, and she spelled the name. She wated a bit, and thin: “Good-morning Mr. Allen” ses she, “This is Miss Wolley—Wolley—Claire Wolley,” ses she. “Now lissen—annownce me ingagemint in to-morrow marning’s _Planut_—and say that I deny it but its so” ses she beginning to larf hysturicully. “Whats that?” ses she, “Oh his name—his name you said. Why how silly of me. His name is—er—Stevin Vandybilt. Oh thank you” ses she. “_I_ hope so too” ses she. “Whats that? Oh thanks. Yes, yes of coarse hes wan of _the_ Vandybilts. Goodbye.” She toorned aboot, an I seen her grarsp hold of the back of a chare. She leaned aginst it, and she begun to shake, and thin she larfed. She larfed so hard and queerly that she fell upon her knees. Then I ran oop to her, and thried to put me arms about her, but she guv me a feerce poosh, and ses she wid her eyes flushing: “Don’t tooch me! Don’t dare put yure hand upon me. Its all yure folt. It was you who brort us thegither. It was you who—Ah hahahahaha!” ses she, lafing and crying thegither. The widder cam in wid Mr. John and she run over to Miss Claire wid her arms spred out. “O me deer! me deer!” ses she, “I worned you—I told you.” But Miss Claire has cum back to her sinses. “Mrs. Bangs” ses she “I am not in need of inny sympithy. Excuse me. Good marning” ses she, and wint up the stares and back to her room. We hurd the dure banged tite. The widder burst into teers, and as fur me, puir loan onhappy crachure that I be I betuk mesilf to me ritched kitchen and cryed me hart out into me clane starched table aprun. I thort the day wud niver ind and whin the Frinch charfer from the Dudleys came over, its small eers I had for his foine spache. “Museer” ses I “its a hart broken wumman I am, and its small cumfut I’m taking in yer perlite langwidge to-nite.” “Mumsell Delia” ses he, “belave me on me sacred onor, I adoar you wid me hart and soal. Be mine” ses he. Mr. Mulvaney caming in joost thin, guv a larf at the Frinchman, which made the puir museer furyiss. “Mumsell” ses he, “I be not of the for chune hoonting sort as yere frind there” ses he. “Whats that ye’re after saying” ses Larry, at wanse. “Did you spake me name?” ses he. The Frinchman stud his grownd bravely, and droring himsilf prowdly up faced Mr. Moolvaney wid a stare. “Jaccuse” ses he, “Museer Mulvaney of wooing the lady wid his eye on her forchune. Jaccuse”—ses he, but Mr. Mulvaney had him by the collar of his coat and museer was setting outside on the lon befure I cud rise to protist. Whin Mr. Mulvaney cam back I’m that insinsed wid his avil manners and the revylashun of his meen and greedy caracter that I skurcely cud aven look at him.