Phil smiled. "To be honest with you, Pat, I have just one best girl," he said emphatically.
Pat looked up at him with admiration.
"Is she in New York, thin?"
"Sometimes I think I shall get a glimpse of her here."
"Sure if she knows where ye are ye will, thin!" said Pat devoutly. "How does she dress so I'll know her? I'll be on the watch."
"Just now in scarlet and gold," said Phil, lifting his head and gazing beyond the stable wall.
"Faith, she knows a thing or two," nodded Pat. "'Tis an old dodge, 'Red and Yeller, ketch a feller.'"
"In winter she goes all in white," said Phil, "soft, pure, spotless."
"Moighty wasteful fer the city!" said Pat seriously. " 'Twill be hard on yer pocket, me bye."
"In spring she's in golden-green among the browns, but in summer, full, glorious green, Pat. Oh, she's a wonderful girl, a goddess!"