“Oh, first-rate! I would take Marthy, Aleck’s youngest daughter! She’s older than Phil, and is a first-rate spinner and weaver and seamstress, and house-girl generally. I could do a deal better with Marthy than with this Witch-a-windy!”
As the old lady spoke, Phil came in and said:
“Well, I’ve given the beauties one full meal, if they never get another! And now I am ready to go with you to Gryphynshold, Mrs.—Mrs.—— Oh, look here now—bosh! You don’t look a bit more of a woman than I am myself, and if I am to be expected to call you Mrs. What’s-her-name, or Anything, our compact of friendship is going to fall through.”
“You may call me anything you wish?” said Gloria.
“Well, what is your other name?” demanded Phil.
“Maria da Gloria de la Vera,” repeated the young lady, with a merry twinkle of her eyes.
“Mar—ree—ar—dar—— Say it over again, please,” exclaimed Phil, stretching her blue eyes.
“Maria da Gloria de la Vera,” repeated the young lady, repressing an inclination to laugh.
“Der—lar—Vay—rah! Heaven and earth and the other place! I forget one end before I understand the other! That will never do! Say, what do they call you at home, when they are in a hurry, you know, and haven’t got time to sit down and repeat it all over slowly at their leisure?”
“They call me Gloria.”