When I was in the hotel porch waiting the arrival of the long car, Andy came up to me:—
"What day will I be in Galway for yer 'an'r?"
"How do you mean, Andy? I didn't tell you I was coming back."
Andy laughed a merry, ringing laugh:—
"Begor! yer 'an'r, d'ye think there's only wan way iv tellin' things? Musha! but spache 'd be a mighty precious kind iv a thing if that was the way!"
"But, Andy, is not speech the way to make known what you wish other people to know?"
"Ah, go to God! I'd like to know if ye take it for granted whin ye ask a girrul a question an' she says 'no,' that she manes it—or that she intends ayther that ye should think she manes it. Faix! it 'd be a harrd wurrld to live in, if that was so; an' there 'd be mighty few widdys in it ayther!"
"Why widows, Andy?"
"Shure, isn't wives the shtuff that widdys is made iv!"
"Oh! I see. I'm learning, Andy—I'm getting on!"
"Yis! yer 'an'r. Ye haven't got on the long cap now; but I'm afeerd it's only a leather medal ye'd get as yit. Niver mind! surr. Here's the long car comin'; an' whin ye tellygraph to Misther Dick to sind me over to Galway fur to bring ye back, I'll luk up Miss Norah an' ax her to condescind to give ye some lessons in the differ betwixt 'yes' an' 'no' as shpoke by girruls. I'm tould now, it's a mighty intherestin' kind iv a shtudy for a young gintleman!"
