There Jessie and Molly were waiting for her. They all sat down to breakfast, Peggy with her hands hidden in her lap; the other two were seated one at the foot and the other at the head of the table. Molly was pouring out the coffee, and Jessie turned to Peggy and asked her what she would like to eat.
“Is it ate ye want me to? Have ye any stirabout?”
“What’s stirabout?” asked Jessie.
“Oh, wurra! I beg yer pardon. Don’t ye know stirabout in this poor sort of a country?”
“No, I never heard of it,” said Jessie.
“It’s made of Indian male, bedad—I beg your pardon. I don’t think I’ll ate anything, if ye don’t mind.”
“Oh yes, you really must, dear,” said Molly; “and you know when Mary Welsh comes——”
“For the love of goodness, don’t!” said Peggy.
“Don’t what?” exclaimed Molly.
“Don’t praise her in the sight of me; ye’ll repent it if ye do.”