“Well, you can’t help her being a lady,” stormed Biddy, “for she is born and bred in the bone a lady, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Ah, yes, Biddy, that way, I know, but don’t get into her head notions that she must marry a rich man, will you?”
Then the woman laughed.
“Why don’t you come out with it, man?” said she, “and tell me all about it? I know that you love this girl, and it’s all right.”
Tom’s dark head dropped down upon his hands. He loved this good Irishwoman, and also the little girl, just as Biddy had said.
But he was years older than Nellie, and there were so many finer-looking fellows in the city. Then, too, there was that stain upon his name which he could not erase unless he could find the man who stole the jewels and placed them in his bundle, and that was so long ago that there was no possible chance.
Just as they were talking they heard a girlish laugh. [Nellie had gone out in her own little boat,] which Biddy had given her, and was returning for supper.
Her happy laughter could always be heard before the girl came in sight.