“Arrah, an’ it’s not far; but the governor doesn’t like to be kept waitin’; besides we’ve a power of work to do before we let in the British public—that is, if they will come in, an’ bad luck to them.”
“Good luck to you and yours,” cried Peace; “and may you prosper, as I am sure you deserve to do. Any way, I have to return you my most heartfelt thanks for your kindness—to say nothing of your company.”
“By jabers, you’re puttin’ the pot on in the blarney line, anyhow,” returned Macarty; “but we undherstand each other intirely, and good luck to you, and many on ’em.”
Peace laughed, and said—
“Well, I’m sorry to part with you, but there is, I suppose, no help for it?”
“Faix, an’ there is,” returned Macarty. “You can make shift wid the same sate ye had last night, and maybe ye’ll be a bit more on your journey when you raich Pocklington.”
“Pocklington!”
“Ah, shure. I don’t know where ye are bhound for, but maybe one place is as good as another to a hawker.”
“Oh it don’t much matter which road I travel for the matter of that, and since you are so pressing I’ll accept your kind offer.”
“An’ its welcome ye are—as welcome as the flowers in May.”