“What is the matter, Judy? You look very grave, my dear,” said Mrs. Moseley, who was at last at leisure to observe her protégée.
“Oh, ma’am!” said the girl in a broken voice, being almost in tears; “oh, dear, ma’am, it is not that I am not glad and thankful for the good fortune that has come to you and the dear colonel and the childer——”
“Children, Judy.”
“Yes, ma’am, children, to be sure, only sometimes I do forget.”
“Well, you were saying——”
“Yes, ma’am, I was saying I am glad and thankful to the Lord and all the saints for the blessing and the prosperity that have come to you; but, but, but——”
“But what, Judy?”
The girl did not answer, but burst into tears and sobbed aloud.
“Judy! Judy! Judy! What is all this? Are you crying because you are doubtful of what is to become of you?” tenderly inquired the lady, laying her hand on the girl’s curly, dark hair.
“It’s the parting with yeez a’, ma’am! And the thought what will I do at all, at all, when ye lave this! Oh, sure it is a silfish wretch that I am to be graiving for meself, instid of rejoicing with yeez!” wept the girl, backsliding hopelessly into her dialect.