"Wisha, it's hot!" he said, mopping his brow. "Sure, Miss Norah, y' kem in the nick av time—'twas run clane off our legs, we was."
"They CAN run, can't they?" said Norah, who was laughing. "Did you hurt yourself, Murty?"
"Only me timper," said the Irishman, grinning. "But 'twas enough to make a man angry to see that little omadhaun dancin' an' flapping his arrums f'r all the world loike a monkey on a stick—an' pardon to ye, Miss Norah, but I do be forgettin' he's y'r cousin."
"Oh, he's not used to stock; you mustn't be hard on him, Murty," Norah laughed. "Are you very hot, you poor boys?"—as Wally and Jim came up, panting. Cecil had withdrawn towards the house, in offended dignity.
"Hot!" said Wally, casting himself on the ground—
"'Far better in the sod to lie,
With pasturing pig above,
Than broil beneath a copper sky,
In sight of all I love!'
That's me!"
"Don't know how you've energy to spout Dr. Watts at that rate," said Jim, following his example.
"I don't think it is Dr. Watts; I fancy it's Kendall," said Wally, uncertainly. "Not that it matters, anyhow; I'm not likely to meet either of them! Did you ever see anything like the way those little beggars ran?"
"Hope I never will again—with the thermometer at this height," Jim answered. "Norah, no words can say how glad I was to see you return, my dear!"