"This is a new cub that I got, Mary," said the man to the servant. "He's a Donegal like yerself and he's hungry. Give him some tay and bread."
"And some butter," added Mary, looking at me.
"How much is the butter extra?" asked my master.
"Tuppence," said Mary.
"I don't think that this cub cares for butter. D'ye?" he asked, turning to me.
"I like butter," I said.
"Who'd have thought of that, now?" he said, and he did not look at all pleased. "Ye can wait here," he continued, "and I'll come back for ye in a wee while and the two of us can go along to my farm together."
He went out and left me alone with the servant. As he passed the window, on his way to the street, Mary put her thumb to her nose and spread her fingers out towards him.
"I hate Orangemen," she said to me; "and that pig of a Bennet is wan of the worst of the breedin'. Ah, the old slobber-chops! See and keep up yer own end of the house with him, anyhow, and never let the vermint tramp over you."
She made ready a pot of tea, gave me some bread and butter and two rashers of bacon.