  “An ortermobile” ses Mr. Wolley at the brikfust table “is the veehicle of the moduns. Its a boom to soofering yumanity in this yumid and turribly trying and hot summers of this climut. In my opinyon” ses he, “its the greatest of modun invinshuns. Don’t interrupt James” ses he, turning upon Mr. James, who was snickering noysily, “I confess” ses Mr. Wolley “that I was want sometime ago to curse the horseliss vehicle, but times are changed” ses he, “and we who wish to kape step wid the times must grow wid it. An ortermobile is a cooltivated taste its like olives. Whin first tasted we detist its flavour, but having thryed it wanse or twice we becum its ardint slaves. Jimmy” ses he “pass me anuther musk melon. John er—whats the news this marning?” “O nothing par” ses Mr. John grinning behind his paper. “Our rickliss pressydint is waring pink pyjamas and Roosel Sage is ded.” As I was coming down the steps leading from the oopstares to the bastemint, who should I see, standing outside me kitchen door, but Mr. Moolvaney. The gintleman has his face aginst the closed dure, and hes after serrynading the lady inside—namely, me warm frind Minnie Carnavan, wid the folling sinseliss milody. I shstood still on the stares to lissen: “In Dublin’s fair city The girls are so pretty I wanse laid me eyes On Miss Molly Malone, Who wheeled a wheel barrow The streets broad and narrow Of cockles and mussels alive, alive, Ho! Alive, alive, Ho, ho! Alive, alive, Ho, ho! Of cockles and mussels Alive, alive, Ho! She was a fish monger But shure twas no wonder For so was her father and mother before And they both wheeled a barrow The streets broad and narrow Of cockles and mussels alive, alive, Ho! She died of the fever, Whin no wan cud save her And that was the ind of Miss Molly Malone But her gost wheels her barrow The streets broad and narrow Of cockles and mussel alive, alive, Ho!” As the gintleman finished I shtepped down the stares, and joost thin he toorned about and seen me caming tord him. He guv a shstart, and ses he: “Why Delia, is it yersilf, indade? Well, well” ses he, “and shure I was after thinking it was yersilf was inside the kitchin.” I condisinded not wan ward, but I walked into me kitchin, past the false craychure, and I shoot the dure bang in his face. Minnie’s seeted on a chare, shsmiling from eer to eer. “Its a grand voyse” ses she, “I’m after lissening to. Who is the handsum gintleman Delia deer” ses she. Joost thin the spaking chube rung out and I wint to it at wanse, and shouted oop at the tap of me voyse: “I refoose to ansswer!” and wid that I shstopped up the doomed thing wid me dish towel. |
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