"Give the poor old woman the price of a cup of tay, your honour. Oh!" recognizing him, "and 'tis yourself is welcome home, me own darling Mr. Gilbert. Give me the price of a new petticoat, and that you may gain the lady!"
In answer to this romantic appeal, he promptly threw her the sovereign that Helen had returned, and Judy (having made herself acquainted with the value of the coin) accompanied the lovers to the gates overpowering them the while with shrill benedictions.
From the following few words it would appear as if the "Fancy's" good wishes were wholly superfluous, and that the lady had already surrendered.
"Good-night," she said as she paused half-way up the avenue. "You really must not come any further."
"And pray why not?"
"Because they know nothing, and it will look so strange," she stammered. "I should like to tell them first," she added rather shyly.
"Then I shall come over at cock-crow, to-morrow. May I come to breakfast?"
"Yes, you may. Good-night," holding out her hand.
"Good-night! and is that all? I am not going to let you run off like that, this time!" detaining her. "You have forgotten something."
"Oh, of course! how stupid of me—the grouse to be sure!"