"Just what I expected. Run along, and I'll tell this good man what to do."
Phil gave Pat one humorous glance and obeyed, passing out toward the street where he soon saw Kathleen in the waiting car, her hat tied down by a roseate veil.
Mrs. Fabian at once accosted Pat. "Could you pack up Mr. Sidney's belongings and send them after him, if we ask you?"
"I could, mum, but 'tis only a week he'll be away."
"He wouldn't want his evening clothes. Do you know what a moth-bag is?"
"I do not, thin."
"Well, go to the store and ask, please. Brush Mr. Sidney's evening clothes thoroughly and put them in the bag, seal it up tight, and hang it in the closet. The careless boy. That's what comes of always having had a mother."
"Lot's o' folks is jist that careless," remarked Pat. He was beginning to feel that even a queen, if she invaded his own vine and fig tree, might be a little less peremptory.
"You may send everything else, except of course his winter overcoat. By the way, you may get another moth-bag for that, and treat it in the same manner."