“Shall it be on Saturday? for to-morrow I am engaged to the Chancellor, and on Friday I dine with his Excellency. Will Saturday suit you?” asked the Colonel.
“Yes, sir, perfectly; with much pleasure,” answered Nelligan.
“Then Saturday be it, and at seven o'clock,” said Massingbred, shaking his hand most cordially; while Joe, with sorrowful step, returned to his chamber.
“Well, I think I did it there, at all events!” cried Simmy, as the other entered. “But what, in the name of all that's barefaced, prevented your stopping me? Why did n't you pull me up short before I made a beast of myself?”
“How could I? You rushed along like a swollen river. You were so full of your blessed subject that you would n't heed an interruption; and as to signs and gestures, I made twenty without being able to catch your eye.”
“I believe I 'm the only man living ever does these things,” said Simmy, ruefully. “I lost the two or three people that used to say they were my friends by some such blundering folly as this. I only hope it won't do you any mischief. I trust he 'll see that you are not responsible for my delinquencies!”
There was a hearty sincerity in poor Simmy's sorrow that at once conciliated Nelligan, and he did his best to obliterate every trace of the unhappy incident.
“I scarcely supposed my father would have forgiven Massingbred so easily,” said Joe, in his desire to change the topic.
“Blarney,—all blarney!” muttered Crow, with an expressive movement of his eyebrows.
“Father Neal himself is rather a difficult subject to treat with,” added Joe.