"And so we have, some of us at least; and I do not believe even the ladies will refuse a bit of this nice tongue, or some cold chicken. What do you say, Dora?" asked Mr. Legrange gayly.
"No tongue for her, please; she is supplied," remarked Mr. Burroughs sotto voce; and Dora, with a little mutinous glance, passed her plate with,—
"A slice of tongue, if you please, Mr. Legrange."
"Never mind: wait a few days, and we will see," murmured Burroughs threateningly; and Dora did not care to retort, but, blushing brightly, began an eager conversation with Sunshine, who had nestled a chair in between those of her mother and Dora, and made lively claims upon the attention of both.
An hour or two later, Mrs. Legrange went to seek her housekeeper, and found her seated upon the step of the back door, her hands clasped around her knees, and softly crooning a wild Irish melody to herself as she rocked slowly backward and forward, her eyes fixed upon the little crescent moon, swimming like a silver boat in the golden sea of sunset.
"An' isn't it a purty sight, you?" asked she, rising as Mrs.
Legrange spoke to her. "Sure an' its the hooney-moon for Misther
Booros an' the swate young lady that's to marry him."
"Yes, it's their honey-moon; and I believe it will be as bright and as long a one as ever shone," said Mrs. Legrange, smiling tenderly, as happy wives will do in speaking of the future of a bride.
"I came to ask you to go up stairs with me, Mrs. Ginniss," continued she with a little agitation in her sweet voice. "There is something for you to see."
"Sure an' I will, ma'am. Is it the chambers isn't settled to shute yees?"
"Oh, no! every thing is admirable, except that we must contrive a little bed for 'Toinette upon the couch in my room."