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"I'm a stranger in this place, Master San, an' I know not which is why nor forever after." Sanford's brain refused this statement entirely, and he blinked. "I guess you're Irish," he meditated. "I am. Do you be gettin' out of your tub now, an' Onnie'll dry you," she offered. "I can't," he said firmly; "you're a lady." "A lady? Blessed Mary save us from sin! A lady? Myself?
"Dad hasn't yelled that loud since that Dutchman dropped the kid in the hello, it's raining!" "Come on home, Sonny," said Rawling, "and tell us all about it. I didn't see the start." But Sanford was still boiling, and the owner had recourse to his godson. Ling told the story, unabridged, as they mounted toward the house. "Onnie'll hear of it," sighed Rawling.
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