‘I don’t think any one will deny us our tempers,’ cried Kearney.
‘Here’s Lockwood,’ cried Walpole, delighted to see his friend enter, though he as quickly endeavoured to retreat.
‘Come in, major,’ said Kearney. ‘We’re all friends here. Miss O’Shea, this is Major Lockwood, of the Carbineers—Miss O’Shea.’
Lockwood bowed stiffly, but did not speak.
‘Be attentive to the old woman,’ whispered Walpole. ‘A word from her will make your affair all right.’
‘I have been very desirous to have had the honour of this introduction, madam,’ said Lockwood, as he seated himself at her side.
‘Was not that a clever diversion I accomplished with “the Heavy “?’ said Walpole, as he drew away Kearney and his son into a window.
‘I never heard her much worse than to-day,’ said Dick.
‘I don’t know,’ hesitated Kilgobbin. ‘I suspect she is breaking. There is none of the sustained virulence I used to remember of old. She lapses into half-mildness at moments.’
‘I own I did not catch them, nor, I’m afraid, did Nina,’ said Dick. ‘Look there! I’ll be shot if she’s not giving your friend the major a lesson! When she performs in that way with her hands, you may swear she is didactic.’