"The blisters?"
"Yis, sor."
"On this table, if you please. And you might cut the strings while you're about it."
Pat put the bundles on the wicker table and cut the heavy twine in dignified silence. Carefully rolling it up in a neat ball, he stuck it in his pocket. Then he faced his employer.
"Is there annyt'ing else, sor?"
"I think not, at present."
"Not aven a cup av tea, sor?"
"No, thanks."
"Thin, if you will excuse me, I'll go about me work. I've had a pleasant day off, sor, thanks to ye. It's hard to go back to work afther such a splindid spell of idleness. Heigho! I'd like to be a gintleman av leisure all the time, that I would, sor. The touch I've had av it to-day may be the sp'iling av me. If you're a smart man, Mr. Brandon Booth, ye'll not be letting me off for a holiday like this again very soon."
Booth laughed outright. Pat's face wrinkled into a slow, forgiving grin.