"How affectionate she is!" snorted Mrs. Cadogan; "them's Dublin manners, I dare say!"
"P.S.," continued Philippa; "steward, Mr. Denis O'Loughlin; stewardess, Mrs. Mahony."
"Thoughtful provision," I remarked; "I suppose Mrs. Mahony's duties will begin after supper."
"Well, Mrs. Cadogan," said Philippa, quelling me with a glance, "I suppose you'd all like to go?"
"As for dancin'," said Mrs. Cadogan, with her eyes fixed on a level with the curtain-pole, "I thank God I'm a widow, and the only dancin' I'll do is to dance to my grave."
"Well, perhaps Julia, and Annie, and Peter——" suggested Philippa, considerably overawed.
"I'm not one of them that holds with loud mockery and harangues," continued Mrs. Cadogan, "but if I had any wish for dhrawing down talk I could tell you, ma'am, that the like o' them has their share of dances without going to Aussolas! Wasn't it only last Sunday week I wint follyin' the turkey that's layin' out in the plantation, and the whole o' thim hysted their sails and back with them to their lovers at the gate-house, and the kitchen-maid having a Jew-harp to be playing for them!"
"That was very wrong," said the truckling Philippa. "I hope you spoke to the kitchen-maid about it."
"Is it spake to thim?" rejoined Mrs. Cadogan. "No, but what I done was to dhrag the kitchenmaid round the passages by the hair o' the head!"
"Well, after that, I think you might let her go to Aussolas," said I venturously.