“I suppose you know all about it?” grunted Bruce, sarcastically.
“Ah, Oi know a thing ur two,” returned the Irish lad, serenely, quite unruffled by Browning’s manner. “Santa Barbara has a distinguished visitor, av ye’ll plaze remimber, an’ all th’ girruls are afther castin’ shape’s-oies at him.”
“Do you mean Lord Stanford?”
“Av course.”
“It is not possible Miss Random has been attracted by that whiskey-drinking wreck of the English peerage!”
“Whoy not?”
“Miss Burrage is friendly with Miss Random, and she would tell her all about Lord Stanford.”
“She has thot, but it’s quare fools some av th’ American girruls do be whin they see a furriner wid some sort av a toitle. It’s crazy they git intirely, an’ divvil a bit do they look at th’ man at all, at all. It’s th’ toitle they’re thinkin’ av. They’re riddy to take any koind av an old thing, av it has a toitle hung to it.”
“I don’t believe Effie Random is that sort of a girl,” warmly declared Hodge. “She seems to have more sense than that.”
“It’s not always their since ye can measure by th’ looks av their face, me b’y.”