“This house’s been your home for a good while, now; and it’ed look like drivin’ youse away, wouldn’t it?—I mean if ye went.”

“I don’t know,” answered she doubtfully.

“Anyway, I don’t want ye to go,” said he, with sudden courage. “Stay here—and marry me!”

He looked into the pure, candid eyes and saw sweeping into them a quiet happiness that caused him to stoop and kiss her cheek.

“Uncle Larry spoke of that just before he died,” she said; “and if you are sure you want me, I’ll stay.”

Chapter VIII

There’s an organ in the parlour,

Just to give the house a tone,

And you’re welcome every evening,

At Maggie Murphy’s home.