“And how is Mrs. Richlin’? And so she sent her love to me, did she, now? The blessed angel! Now, ye’re not just a-makin’ that up? No, I know ye wouldn’t do sich a thing as that, Mr. Richlin’. Well, you must give her mine back again. I’ve nobody else on e’rth to give ud to, and never will have.” She lifted her nose with amiable stateliness, as if to imply that Richling might not believe this, but that it was true, nevertheless.
“You may change your mind, Mrs. Riley, some day,” returned Richling, a little archly.
“Ha! ha!” She tossed her head and laughed with good-natured scorn. “Nivver a fear o’ that, Mr. Richlin’!” Her brogue was apt to broaden when pleasure pulled down her dignity. “And, if I did, it wuddent be for the likes of no I-talian Dago, if id’s him ye’re a-dthrivin’ at,—not intinding anny disrespect to your friend, Mr. Richlin’, and indeed I don’t deny he’s a perfect gintleman,—but, indeed, Mr. Richlin’, I’m just after thinkin’ that you and yer lady wouldn’t have no self-respect for Kate Riley if she should be changing her name.”
“Still you were thinking about it,” said Richling, with a twinkle.
“Ah! ha! ha! Indeed I wasn’, an’ ye needn’ be t’rowin’ anny o’ yer slyness on me. Ye know ye’d have no self-respect fur me. No; now ye know ye wuddent,—wud ye?”
“Why, Mrs. Riley, of course we would. Why—why not?” He stood in the door-way, about to take his leave. “You may be sure we’ll always be glad of anything that will make you the happier.” Mrs. Riley looked so grave that he checked his humor.
“But in the nixt life, Mr. Richlin’, how about that?”
“There? I suppose we shall simply each love all in absolute perfection. We’ll”—
“We’ll never know the differ,” interposed Mrs. Riley.
“That’s it,” said Richling, smiling again. “And so I say,—and I’ve always said,—if a person feels like marrying again, let him do it.”