"Oi want to spake a worrud about me b'y Teddy, sor."
"What is it about your son? Does he need disciplining?"
Seating herself upon the edge of the proffered chair, the Irish woman clasped her moist hands in her hip, and said, "Small doubt but he nades disciplining, Captain: but it is of the great danger to his loife in carryin' th' mail oi want t' spake."
"A mother's nervous fear, perhaps. He's an excellent horseman. You are not afraid he will be thrown?
"Oh, not at ahl, at ahl, sor. He sthicks to the muel loike a bur-r-r. I belave no buckin' baste can throw 'im. It's that roarin' river oi'm afeared of. The min at the hay-camp, whose business it is to row the mail acrass the strame, let Teddy and Reddy do it, do ye know, sor, and oi fear in the prisint stage of the wather, and the dispisition of the b'ys to be larkin' in the boat, they'll overset it, and be dhrowned."
"Are you quite sure the boys use the boat?" asked the Captain.
"Iv'ry mail-day for the last two wakes, sor."
"And you really think them in danger, Mrs. Maloney? I am sure they both swim."
"That's jist it, sor! They're not contint to row quiately over loike min, but they must thry all sorts of antics with th' boat. 'Rowin' aich other round' is one of 'em. Whin oi spake about it they says they can swim. Small chance aven a good swimmer would have in that roarin' river, with its quicksands, its snags, and its bars."
"Well, I will order the hay-camp detail to do the boating hereafter, Mis. Maloney; so you need have no further anxiety."