Mary giggled. "I hope you gave your parents hell on that score," she told him. She leaned in as Delia whispered in her ear, keeping one eye on the Irishman. Leave it to Delia to find a use for him. "Whatever you want, Del," she whispered with a wicked laugh.
She turned to look at Paddy and grinned. Poor boy, she thought without any real pity. "We're agreed. You're coming with us, Paddy." He was handsome enough, and maybe he wouldn't be too bothersome if he could keep up with them... if. That was a big if. "You are our dear cousin, out to chaperone us through the night. I suppose you'll have to stay Irish though. Oh well. Come on, we've got to get dressed. Talking can come after." She took Delia's arm again and started down the street to ward the theater. "So, Paddy dear, you'll need a name. Any ideas, Delia?"