She had opened the door of a small bedroom, and there on the bed lay a page-boy’s suit, only waiting to be put on. Mrs Kinsella closed the door and left Patsy alone to make his toilet.
A new suit of clothes was an event in Patsy’s life. The suit he had on was an old suit of his father’s cut down. He could not remember ever having had a suit of clothes made for him.
The clothes on the bed had not been made for him, it is true, but they were nearly new. The jacket had two rows of buttons down the front, and the trousers had a red stripe down the seams at the side. Patsy had never seen the like of them before.
He got into them, and then he found that for all the buttons on the jacket he could not button it. Holding it together in front he came down the passage to the kitchen, and poked his head in at the half-open door.
“Mrs Kinsella, ma’am.”
“Yes, Patsy,” answered the cook; “what is it?”
“Is it fun you’re making of me?” asked Patsy.
“It’s jelly I’ll be makin’ of you with a rollingpin if you give me any of your impudence,” replied Mrs Kinsella. “What do you mean stickin’ your ugly head in at the door and askin’ me such questions? Come in with you, and give me no more of your sauce.”
“Sure, how can I come in wid me jacket unbuttoned?” asked Patsy. “It’s buttons all over I am, and not a buttonhole can I find to stick one in.”
“Come here,” cried the cook, catching him by the forelock and dragging him into the kitchen. “Do you see these?”—pointing to the hooks and eyes down the edges of the jacket: “them’s hooks and eyes. Hold up your head, now you’re fastened into your jacket, and off you go to the plate pantry and help Mr James, the butler, to clean his silver; but first, before you go, run into the stable-yard and fetch me a bucket of water.”