“Talk till her, Malachi,” urged Ellen.
“Show yez authority,” approved Bridget; “are ye not her father, faith!”
Rosie descended into the kitchen, slowly; her face was flushed, her eyes were red and swollen.
“Will ye tell me the manin’ av this?” demanded her father. She sat down, not answering; and he continued: “Yez hay bin cryin’ agin! Will yez not give over?”
“I can’t help it,” said the girl. “You’re all against me and I can’t help it.”
“Is it thinkin’ av young Larkin yez are!” exclaimed Ellen. “Shame on ye, Rosie!”
“Wud yez hav a black sin on yez sowl?” cried Bridget. “An’ wud ye break yez promis till the dead? Glory be! Bud the young wans now-a-days t’ink nawthin’ av the hereafter.”
“I can’t marry Larry,” sobbed Rosie, “I don’t like him—not that way. And then I’ve promised Jimmie!”
“Powers above!” gasped Bridget.
“The son av a ‘Know Nawthin’,” cried Ellen in horror. “Did yez iver witness the bate av that?”