“Oh, sir, it's princely! It's worthy the great name of its possessor. Dear Kate often told me of her beautiful home.”
“I thought you li-li-lived over a toy-shop? Foglass said you li-lived—”
“So we did while the place was getting ready,” said Dalton, flushing.
“Just let me sit here, and watch the rippling of that shining river!” sighed Mrs. Ricketts, laying her hand on Dalton's, and, by a melting look, withdrawing him from Scroope's unlucky reminiscence. “If I could but pass the night here, I feel it would be ecstasy.”
“What easier, if it's in earnest you are?” cried Dalton. “We never make use of this little drawing-room. Nelly will get you a bed put up in five minutes.”
“Is n't that Irish, Scroope?—is n't that what I often told you of Ireland?” cried Zoe, as her eyes glistened.
“Well, but I'm not joking,” resumed Dalton; “small as the place is, we can make room for you all. We 'll put Miss Martha in Nelly's room, and the General can have mine; and there's a mighty snug tittle place for you in the garden.”
“Oh, dear, dear, dear Ireland, how I love you!” said Mrs. Ricketts, closing her eyes, and affecting to talk in her sleep.
“There's worse places,” murmured Dalton, who drank in national flattery as the pleasantest “tipple” after personal. “But say the word, now, and see if we won't make you comfortable.”
“Comfortable!——you mean happy, supremely happy,” ejaculated Zoe.