"Is it nice for me?" queried the Custodian of Gold Fish.
"Great!" answered Patrick. "I'm goin' to let ye ast Miss Bailey to the party."
Morris glowed with pride and importance. "I likes that," he breathed.
"Well, you can do it. Ye don't want to tell her what kind of a party it is. Just go up to her after school and say that 'we invites her to come to my yard at ten o'clock in the mornin', and bring seven prizes with her.'"
"Oh—oh-h-h! I couldn't to say nothings like that," Morris remonstrated. "I guess you don't know what is polite. I don't know has Missis Bailey got seven prizes."
"She'll get 'em all right, all right," Patrick assured him; "ain't she always givin' 'em around? You just tell her 'ten o'clock and seven prizes.' It's all right, I tell you. I could'a showed ye the picture on that paper of a lady standin' up givin' out the prizes. An' Miss Bailey's the only lady goin' to be there."
"It ain't polite," Morris maintained. But he had during these last athletic weeks broken so many of his canons and his laws that he accepted this last command with more docility than Patrick had expected.
"A party!" cried Miss Bailey, "now isn't that nice? And for to-morrow morning. Of course I'll be there. And what kind of a party is it to be, dear?"
"It's something you says you likes you shall see. Und on the party you shall see it. Und you shall have a s'prise over it."
"You grow more interesting every moment," said Teacher. "Tell me more. I love surprises."