“What!” cried Lady Seagrave. “Do you dare to tell me that a boy of your tender years indulges in that vile and pernicious habit?”
“Sure, it’s only the draw of a pipe I do be takin’ to aise me mind now and thin,” cried Patsy, “or when I’m out rabbitin’ in the woods alone, for they do say the whiff of a pipe keeps off the Good People.”
“The Good People?” said the old lady. “Who are they?”
“The fairies, mum—I mean, me lady.”
“Dear me,” said Lady Seagrave, “I thought no one believed in such rubbish as fairies nowadays. Well, Patsy Rooney, I will hire you for a month to see if you give satisfaction, and if you don’t you will receive a whipping and be turned away.”
“Leave him to me, your ladyship,” said Mrs Kinsella, as she led Patsy away. “I’ll answer for him giving satisfaction when I’ve belted the fairies and rubbish out of him with a strap.”
CHAPTER VII
MRS FINNEGAN’S BOY
“Mrs Kinsella, ma’am,” said Patsy, as he was led along the corridor back to the kitchen, “Mrs Kinsella, ma’am, what’s a page-boy?”
“You’re one,” replied Mrs Kinsella. “Now come along, and don’t be asking me questions, for I have no time to waste. Here’s your room, and here’s a suit belonging to William, the English page-boy that’s just been sent off home again, being caught stealing the jam; whip into the suit, and when you have it on you come into the kitchen and I’ll tell you what to do next.”