"Whativer age ye are, mum," said Pat gallantly, "ye don't look it."
They passed him and ascended a narrow stair. "This is cement, Mr. Sidney," said Eliza, "and probably no mice."
"That settles it, Pluto," remarked Phil. "You for the island."
He ushered his companion into a room, empty but for a deal table and chair, an oil stove with a saucepan on it, and a couple of piles of Indian blankets, two of which were spread on the floor in place of rugs. One end of the table was piled with sketches.
"Well!" exclaimed Eliza. "Why did you—"
"Because," interrupted Phil laconically, and pointed to a double window facing north.
"Take off your things, Eliza," he added joyously, beginning to unbutton her coat.
"There were no horses that I saw," said the bewildered visitor.
"Family in Europe," returned Phil.