Who shall depict the emotions of Larry Flood, when, lounging up to have a little idle dalliance with his sweetheart, he found himself confronted by the young English lady? Yes, the young English lady! She was busily engaged in selling three cauliflowers and a bunch of parsley to the priest's housekeeper, and seemed just as much at home at the trade as Sally herself. She looked up and gave him a sign of warning, and when the press of business had somewhat abated, he sidled over to her and made the following cautious inquiry in a husky whisper,—
"In the name of goodness, miss, will ye tell me if I'm in me seven sinses?"
"I believe so, Larry," she answered with a merry smile.—"Don't betray me, for your life! Sally hurt her foot, and I offered to take her place just for to-day. I'm getting on beautifully you see; and no one is a bit the wiser."
"I could not make out what was up!" exclaimed Larry, "there's been a crowd round the cart as if it was an execution! 'Tis only now I got next or nigh it. And signs on it! they had raison, for such a sight as yourself has never before stood on Terryscreen Street. But I don't like it, miss, no, not for you—you are too venturesome; and if you'll allow me, miss, I'll try my hand at selling. I'm not for the road till five o'clock. I'll do my best for ye, and tell as many lies as a horse-daler, and you might just slip over into the hotel, and they'll wait on you hand and foot."
"No, thank you, Larry, though I'm very much obliged to you all the same. That would never do—never!"
"Well, I'm not aisy in me mind. It's the fair day, and supposing some of them young Bostogues come round ye, and gives ye some of their lip?"
At this disagreeable suggestion the young lady blanched visibly.
"I shall go home early,—that is to say, as soon as the mule will go," was her rather enigmatic reply.
"Early or late, do you see that window over beyant?" pointing to a ledge in a neighbouring store. "Well, I'll just take me sate there, wid this whip, an' if I see any one offer to as much as look crooked at ye, by me sowl! I'll bate him to a jelly; and that's as sure as my name is Flood. So at any rate, miss, ye need not be anxious!" and having made this alarming announcement, her self-elected protector stalked away and actually established himself in the said window-sill, where he sat sentry, with his whip in hand, and his eyes on Helen's stall, looking daggers at her customers.
The messman duly came, and purchased lavishly from the new market-girl, and did not attempt to "bate her down," as had been predicted; on the contrary, he paid her some very ornate compliments, and lingered so long that Helen literally trembled lest Larry should misconstrue his civilities.