It chanced one day that the proprietor’s beautiful daughter, Nettie, visited her father’s establishment, and not finding him in the business office sought him among the workmen. Mr. Morgan was in the act of giving Conn some instructions in reference to a piece of work when the rich young beauty approached him, and with girlish impetuousness began questioning about the to her wonderful mysteries of the tools and machinery about her. The indulgent father, after mildly chiding her for thus venturing among the oil-begrimed machinery, turned to Conn, who had stood awe-stricken before the beautiful young girl, and said:
“Daly, this is my daughter, Miss Nettie. She desires to learn something of the uses to which the machinery is applied. Show her around the shop.”
At the sound of his employer’s voice Conn recovered a portion of his senses, and, blushing and bowing toward the radiant beauty, who flashed the brilliancy of her black eyes full upon him, muttered some incoherent response, and waited for the young lady’s commands.
Mr. Morgan walked away toward his office, and Miss Nettie’s manner toward the young mechanic was so kind that his first confusion melted away like snow before the summer sun, and in five minutes the beautiful heiress and the hard-handed mechanic were chatting together with the familiarity of old acquaintances.
Miss Morgan seemed determined to learn all the details of the business, and Conn was only too pleased to instruct her in the use and appliance of the tools and machinery.
All pleasant things must some time have an ending, and the tour of the shop was at last completed. It had taken them nearly two hours to go through, however, and Conn would have been the happiest of mortals if he could have had the privilege of being Miss Nettie’s conductor and instructor forever.
“Good-by, Mr. Daly,” murmured Miss Nettie, extending her aristocratic hand, white as alabaster, toward our hero, when the inspection of the machinery was at last completed. “Good-by. I am ever so much obliged to you.”
It was, undoubtedly, very foolish and very improper, but when those dainty fingers touched his palm Conn caught them up and, bending over, kissed the little hand with the courtly grace of a cavalier. Miss Nettie blushed, but did not seek to prevent this delicate homage, and with another “Good-by,” tripped away, while poor Conn’s head whirled around more rapidly than did the fly-wheel of the great engine.
This was the beginning, and all the remainder of that day and the next and the next Conn saw nothing, could think of nothing but Miss Nettie Morgan. He lost his appetite, grew moody, shunned companionship with his fellow-workmen, and it is positively asserted that on more than one occasion he secreted himself in the vicinity of the Morgan mansion to feast his eyes, if possible, on the person of his lady-love idol.
Once he met her in the street. She was just stepping from her father’s carriage, attired in silk and velvet, and poor Conn, in his ordinary work clothes, was going from his dinner to the shop. His heart gave a great jump when he saw her, and then his brain reeled and he felt sick and faint. Miss Nettie turned to give some instructions to the coachman and her eyes fell upon Conn. Instantly she stopped, and going toward him a step, extended her hand and said: