"I am sure I wish I could—with all my heart. You have really aroused my keenest interest," said Jerry gravely. "He must be a very remarkable man," he added.
"That's what he is," agreed Peg warmly. "An' a very wondherful lookin' man, too. He's a big, upstandin' man, with gold hair goin' grey, an' a flashin' eye an' a great magnetic voice. Everybody sez 't's the MAGNETISM in him that makes him so dangerous. An' he's as bold as a lion. He isn't frightened of anybody. He'll say anything right to your face. Oh, I wish ye could just meet him. He's not afraid to make any kind of a speech—whether it's right or not, so long as it's for the 'Cause.' Do yez like hearin' about me father?" she asked Jerry suddenly, in case she was tiring him—although how any one COULD be tired listening to the description of her Hero she could not imagine.
Jerry hastened to assure her that he was really most interested.
"I am not botherin' ye listenin', am I?"
"Not in the least," Jerry assured her again.
"Well, so long as yer not tired I'll tell ye some more. Ye know I went all through Ireland when I was a child with me father in a cart. An' the police and the constabulary used to follow us about. They were very frightened of me father, they were. They were grand days for me. Ye know he used to thry his speeches on me first. Then I'd listen to him make them in public. I used to learn them when I'd heard them often enough. I know about fifty. I'll tell ye some of them if I ever see ye again. Would ye like to hear some of them?"
"Very much indeed," answered Jerry.
"Well, if I STAY here ye must come some time an' I'll tell ye them. But it is not the same hearin' me that it is hearin' me father. Ye've got to see the flash of his eye hear the big sob in his voice, when he spakes of his counthry, to ralely get the full power o' them. I'll do me best for ye, of course."
"Ye're English, mebbe?" she asked him suddenly.
"I am," said Jerry. He almost felt inclined to apologise.