“‘Locked in, are ye?’ says he; an’ for the minute I was frightened at the looks of en.
“If ye’ll believe me, Mrs. Cross, the fellow walks straight into the house, makin’ no more o’ me nor if I wasn’t there. He pushes past I, and marches upstairs and bursts open the door o’ Jenny’s room.
“‘Locked in, are ye?’ he says. ‘I’ll soon settle that. Come down, asthore’—E-es, ’twas some such name as that he did call her—‘come down, asthore. I’ve a little word to say to ye, an’ I want this good lady to hear it as well as yerself.’
“‘I’ll call the police,’ I says. ‘I’ll call them in a minute,’ I says.”
“I’d a-done that, I’m sure,” cried Mrs. Cross. “I’m sure I would. Housebreakin’ ye know. Did ye call ’em?” she added, as Mrs. Chaffey seemed to hesitate.
“Well, no, my dear,” returned that lady. “I did not. I was all shaky an’ trembley like. Besides,” she added, casting up her eyes, “I be always for peace, Mrs. Cross. ‘Peace an’ quietness,’ is my motto. I could no more break the law o’ Christian lovin’ kindness nor—nor anything, Mrs. Cross.”
“‘Now, Jenny, alanna,’” says the man, ‘you an’ me was talkin’ yesterday, so I may as well come to the p’int at once. I want a home, an’ you want a home.’
“‘You make a mistake,’ says I, ‘the girl does not want a home. Jenny has got a good home—a better home nor she do deserve,’ I says.
“‘A pretty home!’ says he; ‘a prison! Don’t mind her, me darlin’. Just look me in the face, an’ tell me will ye have me?’
“‘I will,’ she says, so bold as brass—the little barefaced, impident wench! I did really blush for her.