"Faith, an' I don't, thin! I'm afther thinkin' she's a daughter av ould
Ireland, arrah."
Jack's imitation of Susan's brogue was so funny that Patty laughed outright.
"Perhaps the lady IS Irish," she said; "but she looks charming, and so well-dressed."
"That's so. She IS much better dressed than when I saw her last."
"Saw her last! What do you mean?"
"Well, of course I MAY be mistaken, but do you know, she looks like a—like a lady I saw once in the kitchen garden at 'The Pebbles.'"
"And pray what were you doing in that kitchen garden?"
"Well, I was helping Miller look after your motor one day, and I strolled around the house, back to the front veranda that way. And,"—Jack's voice sank to an impressive whisper,—"there in the midst of the cabbages and eggplants,—there stood Mrs. Hastings,—I'm SURE it was she,—in a calico gown and checked apron!"
"Oh, Jack!" and Patty burst into laughter. "She IS our cook! Don't give it away, will you?"
"Never! Never! But WHAT a joke! Does no one know it?"