"Went 'n' blabbed, thet's whut he done," said D'ri. "Mebbe wrote
'em a letter, gol-dum his pictur'."

"Oh, I perceive! I understand," said she; "and I send him away
to-morrow."

"Neck's broke with hunger," said D'ri. "Never threw no vittles 'n
my basket with sech a splendid taste tew 'em es these hev."

The baroness looked at him with some show of worry.

"I beg your pardon," said she, "did you say the neck of you was
broken?"

I explained the idiom.

"Ain't hed nothin' t' eat since day 'fore yistiddy," said D'ri.
"Judas Priest! I 'm all et up with hunger."

With old Burgundy and biscuit and venison and hot coffee he was
rapidly reviving.

"I 'm wondering where I will hide you both," said the baroness,
thoughtfully.

"Hed n't orter hev no rumpus here, 'n' go t' shootin' 'n' mebbe
spile yer house 'n' furnicher," said D'ri. "'T ain't decent er 't
ain't nice. We 'd better mek tracks an' put a mild er tew 'twixt
us 'n' here 'fore we hev any trouble. 'T ain't a-goin' t' be no