“Be the club of Konn! That foine fellow the son-in-law of meself!”
“Yes, indeed!”
“The gintleman that married me Judy when she was a nady orphan, and he didn’t suspict she could be the daughter of a hundred kings?”
“The very same.”
“Let me at him!” exclaimed The O’Melaghlin, pushing to the front and passing through the crowd on the platform to the side of the barouche, just as Ran got down from his seat to welcome his friends.
“I’m The O’Melaghlin, Misther Hay. And it’s proud I am to make the acquaintance of ye. You’re a noble man, that ye are—that ye are. Wolfscliff is behoind. I could not wait for him to inthrodooce you. But I’m The O’Melaghlin, and you are Misther Hay!” he exclaimed, seizing the hand of Ran and shaking it to nearly dislocation.
Ran was somewhat dismayed, not knowing how to account for this overwhelming salute that almost deprived him of the power to respond, and say:
“I am very happy to meet you, Mr. O’Melaghlin.”
“Misther?” repeated the chief, prompt to take exception to such a common title applied to himself.
But fortunately Stuart came up, shook hands with Ran and then presented Palma, who was warmly welcomed by her cousin.