"Av coorse I cud do it, if you be wantin' me to; but wud I look good enough, Miss?"
"You'd look all right, after I dressed you; but, Susan, could you talk with less,—less accent?"
"Me brogue, is it, Miss? Faith, an' I fear I can't be after conquerin' that! It's born in me."
"Patty," said Mona, "I think your scheme is crazy,—perfectly CRAZY! But—if you really mean it, I'll tell you that I HAVE an Irish aunt,—at least, sort of Scotch-Irish,—and if we pass Susan off for her, the—the ACCENT won't matter."
"Just the thing!" cried Patty, gleefully. "I see my way clear now! It
IS a crazy plan, Mona, I admit that,—but do you know of any better?"
"No; but, Patty, think a minute. Of course, the truth will leak out, and what will people say?"
"No, it won't leak out,—and, if it did, what harm? Susan is a nice, respectable woman, and as a member of my family is capable of chaperoning me in her own personality. But I choose this other game because it's more fun. I shall dress her up in,—in,—Susan, you couldn't wear a gown of Mrs. Fairfield's, could you?"
"The saints presarve us, Miss Patty, it wuddent go halfway round me!"
"No; so it wouldn't. Well, I'll find something. Oh, there's a gown in the attic that Mrs. Allen left here—she's Nan's mother, Mona,—that will be just right. It's grey satin and silver lace. Oh, Susan, you'll look GREAT!"
Mona still seemed a trifle unconvinced.