“By great good fortune the secretary received only half an hour ago intelligence of the shocking instance of Papal aggression of which you have been the victim.”
To hear her case put so grandly was honey to Mrs. Ginx.
“Well now,” continued the little man, “we are ready to render you every assistance to save your child from the claws of the Great Dragon. I wish to know the exact circumstances—let me see—(opening a large pocket book) I have this memorandum: the child was carried off from his mother's bedside in broad daylight by a nun accompanied by two priests and a large body of Irish: is that a correct version?”
“Law, no, sir, it warn't quite like that,” said Mrs. Ginx. “We've 'ad so many on 'em that Ginx was for drownin' the thirteenth”——The little man opened his eyes——
“An' he went and gave it away, sir,” said she crying, “to a nun, sir—ah! ah! ah!—they won't let me see the darlin' now, sir—ah! ah! ah! because I won't let Missis Spishyosir mark me with the cross, sir, an' me with as fine a breast o' milk as ever was for 'im, sir—ah! ah! ah!”
“Hem!” said the little man, “that's different from what I understood.”
He was quite honest, but who does not know how disappointing it is to find a wrong you wish to redress is not so bad as you had hoped?
However, it looked bad enough, and might be made worse. It was the very case for the Protestant Detectoral Association.
“Would Mr. Ginx not join in an effort to recover his child?”
“No, sir; I should think not: he went an' gave it away.”