He remonstrated: she insisted. He held out: she smiled sweetly in his face, and shut the window in it pretty sharply, and disappeared. He went disconsolately down his ivy ladder. As soon as he was at the bottom, she opened the window again, and asked him, demurely, if he would do something to oblige her.
He replied like a lover; he was ready to be cut in pieces, drawn asunder with wild horses, and so on.
"Oh, I know you would do anything stupid for me," said she; "but will you do something clever for a poor girl that is in a fright at what she is going to do for you?"
"Give your orders, mistress," said Griffith; "and don't talk of me obliging you. I feel quite ashamed to hear you talk so: to-night especially."
"Well, then," said Kate, "first and foremost, I want you to throw yourself on Father Francis's neck."
"I'll throw myself on Father Francis's neck," said Griffith, stoutly. "Is that all?"
"No; nor half. Once upon his neck you must say something. There—I had better settle the very words, or perhaps you will make a mess of it. Say after me now: Oh, Father Francis, 'tis to you I owe her."
"Oh, Father Francis, 'tis to you I owe her."
"You and I are friends for life."
"You and I are friends for life."