"It's as true as true, Norah. No make-up this time. An' oh! I say, d'you know what Jimmy Flynn tole Tom Hawkins?"
"Nawthin' good, bedad!"
"Ain't it! Well, opinions differ. At any rate he was goin' to set a line on Friday night, an' as he was roundin' the point he hears somewheres ahead of him a noise between a smack an' a crack. Then comes a bit of a squeal, an' a woman's voice sings out: 'Don't, stop it!' Then there was another smack-crack, an' just as he got round the corner he sees a couple, for all the world like you and Paddy, sittin' on a log. No, 'twas Paddy that was on the log, an' you were on Paddy's——"
"Ye loi-in spalpeen! Oi'll pull yure tongue from betune yure teeth," screamed Norah, as, blushing furiously, she chased the nimble Joe out of the kitchen right into the arms of Sandy M'Intyre, as he was coming up the back doorstep.
"Hello, Sandy!"
"Hello, Joe! What's row inside? Norah givin' you the rounds of the kitchen as usual, eh?"
"Only jiggin' her about Paddy Lacey, an' got her paddy up a bit. You're up to time, Sandy, ole man. By jing! I see you've brought Curlew in. Am I to ride him? My word! it is good of your governor to let me. I thought you'd a brought the piebald."
"So I intended, but he was limpin' when he was run into the stockyard; so father says, 'Take Curlew.'"
Curlew was Mr. M'Intyre's favourite horse, and Joe was highly honoured in being allowed to ride this mettlesome but lovely paced steed.
Just then breakfast appeared. After a substantial meal Joe brought out his father's valise and strapped it to the saddle.