In a swift, hoarse whisper O’Hara said:
“It’s only us, Faey.”
At once the door opened a little wider, and two astonished eyes looked down upon us, both there on our hands and knees!
“Oh, Messieurs, you be killed!” she whispered, as she lifted her hands and gazed upon us in an awestruck manner.
Slinking there, behind O’Hara’s coat-tails, I gazed up at the maid through his armpits!
“Didn’t you hear me whistle, Faey dearest?” said my comrade, as the astonished girl still stared at us in fright.
“No, Monsieur Hara, I sleep fast,” she said, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
At this candid confession, O’Hara looked crestfallen. I, too, must confess that a dash of cold water seemed to have been thrown upon the fires of my romantic soul. I pinched my leg to convince myself that I was not dreaming. It was real enough, no dream at all. It was a solid me intruding into a girl’s bed-chamber at the dead of night, ready to clutch the maid and help my comrade to carry her away into the mountains!
“Come, Fae Fae, don’t go back on me, darlint,” wailed O’Hara, as the pretty maid looked about in a bewildered way, as though hesitating as to what she ought to do under such distressing circumstances.
At this moment I poked my head up from behind O’Hara and revealed my physiognomy clearly in the shifting moonlight.