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!