"Hello--o!" called this individual. "Not dead yet?"
For answer Seaton strode forward and taking the milk-pail from him gripped him by the dirty cotton shirt and gave him a brief but severe shaking.
"No,--not dead yet!" he said--"You insolent young monkey! Who are you?"
The boy wriggled in his captor's clutch, and tried to squirm himself out of it.
"I'm--I'm Jake--they calls me Irish Jake"--he gasped--"O Blessed Mary!--my breath! I clean the knives at the Plaza--"
"I'll clean knives for you presently!" remarked Seaton, with a threatening gesture--"Yes, Irish Jake, I will! Who sent you here?"
"SHE did--oh, Mary mother!" and the youth gave a further wriggle--"Miss Soriso--the girl they call Manella. She told me to say she's too busy to come herself."
Seaton let go the handful of shirt he had held.
"Too busy to come herself!" he repeated, slowly--then smiled--"Well! That's all right!" Here he lifted the pail of milk, took it into his hut and brought it back empty, while "Irish Jake," as the boy had called himself, stood staring--"Tell Miss Soriso that I quite understand! And that I'm delighted to hear she is so busy! Now, let us see!" Here he pulled some money out of his pocket, and fingered a few dirty paper notes--"There, Irish Jake! You'll find that's correct. And when you come here again don't forget your manners! See? Then you may be able to keep that disgraceful shirt of yours on! Otherwise it's likely to be torn off! If you are Irish you should remember that in very ancient days there used to be manners in the Emerald Isle. Yes, positively! Fine, gracious, lovely manners! It doesn't look as if that will be ever any more--but we live in hope. Anyway, YOU--you young offspring of an Irish hybrid gorilla--you'd best remember what I say, or there'll be trouble! And"--here he made a mock solemn bow--"My compliments to Miss Soriso!"
The red-haired youth remained for a moment stock-still with mouth and eyes open,--then, snatching up the empty milk-pail he scampered down the hill-slope at a lightning quick run.
Seaton looked after him with an air of contemptuous amusement.
"Ugly little devil!" he soliloquised--"And yet Nature made him,--as she makes many hideous things--in a hurry, I presume, without any time for details or artistic finish. Well!"--here he stretched his arms out with a long sigh--"And the silly girl is 'too busy' to come! As if I could not see through THAT little game! She'd give her eyes to come!--fine eyes they are, too! She just thinks she'll pay me out for being rough with her the other day--she's got an idea that she'll vex me, and make me want to see her. She's right,--I AM vexed!--and I DO want to see her!"