"'I'm his aunt,' says she, haughty-like, 'an' as long as I'm here I'll see his room,' says she; an' wid that she wint up them stairs like they belonged to her. I heerd her movin' around, an' I hurried to button me collar an' slick up. Presently I dropped the comb, for I heerd her comin' back. Before she'd got away downstairs, 'What have ye done wid the barrel?' says she. 'What bar'l? ' says I. 'The wan Mr. Sidney had here last night,' says she. Thin I remembered there was wan. 'It moved out,' says I, 'wid his company,' says I. 'What company?' says she, and her eyes snapped the way I expected to hear her say, 'Off with his head!'
"'A lady,' says I, 'wid a cat in a basket. 'T was a reg'lar movin',' says I.
"She bit her lip, and muttered: 'Just like her!' I heerd her plain, though she wasn't lookin' at me no more. Take an auld man's advice, me bye. Kape away from the Queen o' Sheby for a while; an' if ye don't tell me what was in that bar'l rollin' up an' down stairs like a restless soul, I'll be havin' the nightmare, sure."
Phil laughed, and shook his head. "The ways of women, Pat," he said, "are so far beyond me that I can't even guess."
"Can't guess what was in the bar'l? Tell me, now, or ye'll not git the key to the park nor meet yer sweetheart."
"There were dishes and silver in that barrel, Pat. Each of the women thinks she owns them."
"I'd bet on the Queen o' Sheby," said Pat.
"You'd lose, then," returned Phil, running upstairs.