“Who was that?” said Ethel in some dismay.
“Sounded something like ‘th’ ould scut,’” said I, for by that name our friend Casey had come to be known.
It proved to be he, bare-footed and hatless, coming to us across the fields.
“Good marnin’, ’tis a hell of a fine day.”
“Yes, it is,” said I, “although your language is somewhat strong.”
“No harrum intindid,” said he, looking at Ethel with a pleasant smile. “Ye can’t make an insult out of a hell or two a day like this. I t’harght that perhaps your woman would like some blue berries for breakfast th’ day, an’ I brarght them up. They’re picked this marnin’, an’ the dew is yit on them.” He held out an eight-quart pail filled to the top with tempting berries.
“How much are they, Pat,” said I, putting my hand into my pocket.
“Who’s insultin’ now?” said he, with a growling laugh. “I’ll sell no prisints this yair. ’Twas a hell of a bad ride ye had th’ other night, an’ I tould me ould woman I’d git square wid ye one way or another, an’ this is the way. They’re dam fine.”
“They certainly are,” said Ethel, unconsciously seconding his oath.
She went into the house to get a bowl to put them into and just then Ellery and Cherry came up.