“’Tis so kind of ye that I will halt a brief while and enj’y the hospitality of the Knights of the Ragged Shirt and Dirty Face.”
This was a pretty crisp salutation, but it need not be said that Mike felt no more regard for the couple than do all respectable persons. He remained standing and did not go nearer.
“Aren’t yer afraid of being arrested fur yer beauty, young man?” asked Biggs with a grimace.
“Not while yersilves are in the counthry.”
“Who are you anyway?”
“Mike Murphy of Southport, State of Maine. I would exchange cards wid ye, but I’m afeard ye couldn’t return the compliment.”
“I left my pasteboards at home on the piany. We gather from your dress that you’re one of them Boy Patrols.”
“Ye’re right, excipt jest now I’m on this side of the lake.”
“Gee whizz! but you’re keen. How long do you chaps intend to stay there?”
“Probably until we lave. We’re not among the folks who hev to be kicked out by their betters.”