The woman still lingered at the door, as if she expected some change of purpose.
“Don't you hear me?—don't you understand what I said?” cried he, passionately.
“Tell him that your master cannot see him,” said Bella.
“If I don't make too bould,—if it's not too free of me,—maybe you 'd excuse the liberty I 'm taking,” said a man, holding the door slightly open, and projecting a round bullet head and a very red face into the room.
“Oh, Mr. Driscoll,” cried Bella. “Mrs. Hawkshaw's brother, papa,” whispered she, quietly, to her father, who, notwithstanding the announcement, made no sign.
“If Captain Kellett would pardon my intrusion,” said Driscoll, entering with a most submissive air, “he'd soon see that it was at laste with good intentions I came out all the way here on foot, and a bad night besides,—a nasty little drizzling rain and mud,—such mud!” And he held up in evidence a foot about the size of an elephant's.
“Pray sit down, Mr. Driscoll,” said Bella, placing a chair for him. “Papa was engaged with matters of business when you knocked,—some letters of consequence.”
“Yes, miss, to be sure, and did n't want to be disturbed,” said Driscoll, as he sat down, and wiped his heated forehead. “I 'm often the same way myself; but when I 'm at home, and want nobody to disturb me, I put on a little brown-paper cap I have, and that's the sign no one's to talk to me.”
Kellett burst into a laugh at the conceit, and Driscoll so artfully joined in the emotion that when it ceased they were already on terms of intimacy.
“You see what a strange crayture I am. God help me!” said Driscoll, sighing. “I have to try as many dodges with myself as others does be using with the world, for my poor head goes wanderin' away about this, that, and the other, and I 'm never sure it will think of what I want.”