“Of course it must be a big place to keep all the toys of the world there.”
“Whist, me darlint, no house in the wurrld wud be big enough to howld all the toys an’ all the drames av the childer too; an’ I’d sooner be havin’ the latter than the former anny day. ’Tis as much as I can manage to kape me autygraph collection intacks, so I have workin’ drawin’s av the toys, an’ the big dipartmintal shtores in the cities an’ towns an’ villidges do kape the rale articles. An’ by the same token I’ve me dep-puties stationed iv’rywhere to git things ready forninst me comin’, an’ thin I can make the journey wid the spade av the wind—”
Her head dropped against his arm.
“Not Whitefoot and Danny,” she said drowsily, “but Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,—I like Vixen best in the picture; then there’s On-come-et, and—”
She didn’t finish her sentence, and he, looking down, discovered the reason.
“The darlint,” he said. “Faith, ’tis tired out complately ye are, an’ the slape will refresh ye. Cuddle clost, mavourneen. ’Tis a day fer a notch on the shtick annyway, an’ I’ll niver fergit it.”
He tucked the rugs about her as tenderly as her mother could have done, though his fingers were clumsy, and unused to such offices. Then, after he had seen to her comfort, he bethought himself of his own, and had a merry meeting with that Other,—quite a longish meeting this time,—and he murmured the same toast, repeating the words again and again with funny little nods by way of emphasis. After which he fell to singing, rather loudly, the diverting history of “Kelly’s Cat”:—
“It was on a Sunday evenin’—I’ll mind it evermore,
Whin Paddy Kelly wint to bed an’ fergot to bar the door,
The cat riz up an’ shook hersilf widout either dread or fear,
An’ over the hollow to Barney’s she quickly thin did steer.
The night bein’ cold an’ stormy, an’ the cat bein’ poor an’ thin,
An’ the windy, it bein’ open, she—”
He broke off here, his chin falling forward on his chest. Danny and Whitefoot, however, were used to his ways, and knew their own duty too well to stop because the reins fell so slack on their backs; they jogged on quite as steadily as if he were awake. It was a lonely country where there was little travel, so there was no fear of meeting any one and no reason for turning out; all they had to do was to keep on. Presently he stirred and opened his eyes.
“’Tis forty winks I’ve been havin’, an’ they’ve made a new man av me,” he said, with a prodigious yawn. “But begorra, I dramed me arrm was held in the grip av a monsther. ’Tis useless an’ shtiff it is this very minnit. Faith, ’tis as sound aslape as if ould Pickett was tellin’ wan av his wurrld widout ind shtories. Arrah! wake up wid ye—”