“A dab.”
“May I ask which of your languages is that word borrowed from, Mr. Percival?”
“It’s supposed to be English,” he laughed.
“Oh! I am so relieved. I was afraid you were going to attach it to Ireland, and then—”
“And then?”
“Guerra al cuchillo—war to the knife.”
“Are you a dab?—I beg pardon; do you speak Spanish?”
“I do; we are quite an Irish-Spanish colony.”
“An Irish-Spanish colony! In the name of wonder what is that?”
“I’ll tell you. The Infanta, one of the largest of the vessels attached to the Spanish Armada, was wrecked on the coast of Mayo. The survivors settled along the coast as far as Galway. My great, great, great, ever so great-grand-mamma was a daughter of one of the officers.”