"That's scarcely to be wondered at," returned Cassim dryly, "considering the enthusiasm of your greeting."
"And why not?" retorted Tim, with the broadest of brogues; "am I not glad to see you both?"
"Of course; and we are glad to see you," said Peter, examining his crushed hand; "but you needn't maim us for life."
Tim roared with laughter in the most unfeeling manner, and Cassim, with a smile, placed his hand on the giant's shoulder.
"The same noisy Tim as of old," he said kindly; "you were a large boy, Tim, and now you are a large man. I wouldn't have recognised you, though, save for the brogue. It's as strong as ever."
"That's true, anyhow," acknowledged Fletcher placing his huge paw on Philip's slender hand as it rested on his shoulder. "Wasn't I but one term at the school, and that didn't turn it into cockney speaking. Besides, I've been to Cork since."
"To freshen up the accent, I suppose," said Grench, with the air of a man who has made a cutting remark; "but a special correspondent should know more than one language."
"Especially if the language is Irish," finished Cassim, mischievously.
"Get along with you," replied Tim, with a twinkle in his eye; "why, it's a polyglot I am, French, Italian, Spanish, and a touch of Arabic. I can tell lies in any one of them. So here you are, lads. Where's Jack?"
"Lord knows!"