But one afternoon, shortly before Sir Digby’s great ball, a lady did; and that lady was Mary herself.
“Which I’ve been dying to see you, sir,” she began.
“Sit down, my dear, sit down.”
Mary sat down, and proceeded,—
“It’s all up, Mr. Richards, it’s all up!”
The poor girl was crying now bitterly.
“Missus is as good as sold. She’s goin’ to the ball, and Sir Digby’s goin’ to propose. She told me, and Sir Digby kissed me and told me. Oh, oh, what ever shall I do?”
Richards lit a huge pipe, and walked about smoking for fully five minutes. Then he went over and took Mary’s hand, and Mary looked up innocently in his face, and said innocently through her tears,—
“Do you want to kiss me too, sir?”
“Well, I wasn’t thinking about that; but there, Mary, there. Now, I’ll tell you what you’ve got to do; and I do believe it will all come right, even yet.”