"If ye please, Miss Monica," she says, hesitating, and applying her apron to her lips.
"Yes, Canty?"
"I'd be very thankful to ye, miss, if ye wouldn't call me that."
"Call you what?"
"Canty, miss."
"But," astonished, "isn't it your name?"
"No, miss; me name is Bridget."
"But surely Canty is your name, too?"
"Well, it's me father's name, miss, no doubt; but faix I feel just like a boy when ye call me by it, an' ye wouldn't like me to feel like a boy, miss, would ye?" says the village beauty casting an anxious glance at Monica from her dark Irish eyes, and blushing deeply.
"Certainly not," says Monica, laughing a little. "Very well, Bridget; I shall try to forget you ever had a surname."