meself--yes, an' a few more, too.'

I was pondering on the remarkable formation of this sentence which lent
itself neither to analysis nor parsing, when her next words arrested my
instant attention.

'It's about Miss Marryun I wanted to speak to you,' she said.

I stared. Why on earth should she speak to me about Miss Warrington,
Henry's sister? I have not noticed her closely, but she is a quiet
enough female, I believe, though possessed of an irritating habit of
constantly pressing quite unnecessary ash-trays on a man.

To my surprise Elizabeth closed the door at this point and, coming up
to me, whispered in a strange husky voice: 'That's just where all the
trouble begins. It's what I overheerd 'er sayin' about you.'

I must confess to feeling rather startled. Then I remembered Mrs.
Warrington had often commented on Elizabeth's curious proclivities for
'overhearing.' I looked at her coldly. I had not the slightest
intention of becoming her confidant.

'Well, well, my good girl,' I retorted briskly, 'listeners never hear
any good of themselves--or of other people either, I suppose. So, if
you please, we will drop the subject.' I then picked up a book and
held it before me to signify that the parley was at an end.

Elizabeth snorted. The term is vulgar, I know, but no other expression
is adequate. 'Oo was listenin', I'd like to know?' she asked. 'I sed
_overheerd_. The door was well on the jar and I was dustin' the 'all