“I’d have her with a civil tongue in her head. I’d have her respect and regard and rev’rahce her superiors—and I’m one of them!”
“Go on; read more,” muttered the old man.
“It’s not so easy, with a throat on fire, and a tongue swelled with passion. I tell you, Peter Malone, I know that girl well, and what’s more, she never deceived me! It’s like yesterday to me, the day she stood up here to my own face and said, ‘I wish I never set foot in your house, Tim O’Rorke.’ Yes, there’s the very words she used.”
“Wasn’t she a child, a poor little child?” said Malone, in a humble, almost supplicating voice.
“She was a child in years, but she had the daring of a woman, that no man would ever frighten.”
“Read on, avick, read on, and God bless you,” said the other, wiping away the big drops that stood on his brow.
O’Rorke read on: “‘I know, grandfather, it is very natural you should like to hear of me——‘”
A deep sigh and low muttered prayer broke here from the old man.
“‘—to hear of me: but when once assured that I was well and happy, I hoped and believed you would cease to make such inquiries as fill O’R.‘s letters——‘”
“What does she mean?” broke in Malone.