“You are bold to make so certain of a Papist—”
“I saw you!”
“That cannot even tell maid from man!”
“What is meant by that?” asks the tall soldier, opening his eyes.
“Why, simply this, sir: I am no boy at all, but a girl!”
There was a minute, during which the little man went purple in the face, and the rest star’d at Delia in blank astonishment.
“Oh, Jack,” she whisper’d in my ear, “I am so very, very sorrow: but I cannot wear these hateful clothes much longer.”
She fac’d the company with a rosy blush.
“What say you to this?” ask’d Colonel Essex—for ’twas he—turning round on the little man.
“Say? What do I say? That the fellow is a Papist, too. I knew it from the first, and this proves it!”