“No, but I can understand plain Irish,” said Harry. “Hello, Pat, how are you?”
The man uttered a laugh to crack the heavens. “Sure, and ’tis yourself, is it? And Oi’m that glad to see ye!”
“Are we pinched?” laughed Harry.
“Ye are that, the whole Wild West crew of yez! Fetch yer friends in here till I have thim fined ten dollars each. Did yez have yer supper yit? ’Tis a lie, ye didn’t—come into the house.”
Gordon was already at Harry’s side, and the rest followed.
“Where’s the folks?” asked Harry.
“Gone. The place is closed up an’ I’m left here to kape it open. The sarvants went to Oakwood to tidy up a bit a week ago, and the Mister and Missus went this morning with Master Penfield. It’s a ghrand place they’ve there, Mister Arnold. Me and the old woman goes down with our bandbox in the tourin’ car with Jimmie, Mister Roger’s man, this day week, praise be, for ’tis as slow as mud here now.”
“How are they? All well?” asked Harry.
“All well, and waitin’ to get their two hands on ye—specially the girrls, forbye a letter ye sint Master Penfield. Sure, he made a raid on the establishment. Two fancy hats, no less, must Miss Marjorie hand over, and there’s not so much as a wicker chair left in the house. Come up and set down in wan o’ thim—the whole o’ yez!”
“Was the aeroplane a success?” Gordon asked.