“He was given to me mother as a house watch, when he was a pup.”
“Your people are not from this part of the world?” remarked Miss Usher. “Any one can see that, Mary!”
“Deed then they are, ma’am,” she replied emphatically; “and where else? Why wouldn’t I be Kerry born and bred?”
“Because you are so unlike the other people, who have dark hair and blue or grey eyes, and are more strongly built; and you——”
“Oh, yes,” she interrupted, “I’m aware I’m altogether different—very small-boned, wid red hair and brown eyes, and no colour to spake of, but it’s just a chancey thing, like a piebald horse—or a blue-eyed cat; we can’t all be cut out on the same pattern.”
Mary was doing the honours of the feast; her aunt had undertaken the part of servant, and she now stepped gracefully into the rôle of hostess. Her manners were charming and fascinating; even Mr. Usher, laden as he was with care and apprehension, fell under their spell. In a kind of dream he ate a dangerous supply of soda bread, and disposed of two cups of strong tea; for as this most fascinating creature chattered away to him, he forgot both his digestion and his duties.
“Oh, faix, it’s not every day we have a gentleman to tay, I tell ye! If me poor mother was stirring, she’d be a proud and happy woman to see yer honour sitting here,” declared Mary.
“And how is she?”
“Just dozing now within in the room. She’s had one of her bad turns, but I nursed her out of it. Oh, she’s awfully changed since her mind gave way.”
“And do you think she really is—peculiar?”