“An this evenin?”
“Sorra a time else.”
“What kin it be?” said Captain Corbet, meditatively, lost in wonder at the mystery that surrounded Pat’s message. He leaned his head upon his hand, while his foot still jogged the cradle, and sat for a time lost in thought.
But Pat’s impatience could not endure the delay.
“O, come along,” said he; “sure it’s all one to you.”
“But I can’t,” said the captain. “You forget the babby.”
“I’ll tell you what to do,” said Pat, as a bright thought struck him; “bring the baby wid you.”
Captain Corbet stared for a moment at Pat in silent horror.
“What!” he cried, “bring him with me! Expose that per-recious head to the evenin damp! Why, d’ye think I’m made of iron?”
Pat at this gave up, and began to despair of moving Corbet from his house.