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Updated: May 29, 2025
Chapter iii. 20. Lors que vous addresserez des lettres
You can eat um or leab um alone, Miss Caterpillar!" said little Pitapat, firmly. Capitola laughed, "Patty" she said, "you are worthy to be called my waiting maid!" "And Lors knows, Miss Caterpillar, if it was de wittels you was a-frettin' arter, you ought to a-told me before! Lors knows dere's wittels enough!"
She was taking away the first tray, but at the door she paused and, looking back, said, "You won't say nothing to the missus, will you, miss?" "If she'll let me be I'll not say anything," said Fan. "Very well, miss, she won't trouble you no more. But, lors, she don't mean no harm; it's only her little funny ways." And having thus explained and smoothed matters over, she went off to the kitchen.
Pity but I'd a let Solomon court her when he wanted to but Lors! how did I ever know that she'd M y conscience!" etc., etc. Her fit of abstraction was at last broken by a smart rap at the door. She started and turned pale, like the guilty creature that she was. The rap was repeated sharply. She jumped up, hustled the purloined letters and papers out of sight, and stood waiting.
An' I should go about the country far an' wide, an' come round the women wi' my tongue, an' get my dinner hot at the public, lors! it 'ud be a lovely life!" Bob paused, and then said, with defiant decision, as if resolutely turning his back on that paradisaic picture: "But I don't mind about it, not a chip!
Tom?" said Bob, regretfully. "Now don't say so 'cause you think I want 'em. I aren't a poor chap. My mother gets a good penn'orth wi' picking feathers an' things; an' if she eats nothin' but bread-an'-water, it runs to fat. An' I'm such a lucky chap; an' I doubt you aren't quite so lucky, Mr. Tom, th' old master isn't, anyhow, an' so you might take a slice o' my luck, an' no harm done. Lors!
"It's poor work talking o' almonds and raisins." "Lors, sister Glegg, don't be so quarrelsome," said Mrs. Pullet, beginning to cry a little. "You may be struck with a fit, getting so red in the face after dinner, and we are but just out o' mourning, all of us, and all wi' gowns craped alike and just put by; it's very bad among sisters." "I should think it is bad," said Mrs. Glegg.
Lors des premières armamens faits dans la province, pour opposer des forces
"And are you always going to stay and take care of Master Roger?" "'Spect I shall. Lors, Miss Kate, he's more bother to me 'n all my work, dat boy!" "That will do, Capua," said his master; "you may go." And therewith Capua scuffled away. "Well, Roger, what does this mean?" asked Mrs. McLean, as the door closed.
I al'ys think there's nobody looks half so well as the missis when she's got her 'air done nice. Lors! I wish I'd got long 'air like her my 'air's a-comin' off dreadful. 'There'll be fine work to-morrow, I expect, said Betty, 'when the master comes home, an' Dawes a-swearin' as he'll niver do a stroke o' work for him again.
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