“It hasn’t any roof on it.”
“You don’t say so; why, that is quite important.”
“Thrue for you, yer honor, it is that; the flure and the sides is beautiful; it has two flures and a roof as purty as ever was.”
“Why, I thought you said it had no roof,” I responded, growing somewhat confused, as I often did over Patrick’s explanations.
“Oh no; the roof is all there, but it lakes, it does.”
“Still, if it does leak, the upper floor would catch that, and you might occupy the lower story, as I have been doing.”
“So I would, indade, but the flures have no boards on them; nothing at all, at all, but jest the bare bames. But I wouldn’t mind that meself, and me family would do well enough on the ground if it wasn’t for the lakes, and the bad saison it is at that.”
“You ought to find out where the leaks are, and stop them,” I replied.
“Sure, and it lakes all over.”
“Now, Patrick,” I remonstrated, “how can it do that? No roof was ever made that leaked all over; the thing can’t be.”