Mabel. And not to be spending his breath blowing through a horn all his days, for the sake of wearing a fine red coat. I beg your pardon again, sir, if I say too much—but it’s to save my brother and my mother.
Mr. H. I like you the better for all you’ve said for both.
Owen. And I’m off entirely:—I’ll not list, I thank you, sir.
{MABEL clasps her hands joyfully, then embraces her brother.
Mr. H. And I’ll not ask you to list—and I would not have asked it at all, but that a friend of yours told me it would be the greatest service I could do you, and that it was the thing of all others you wished.
Owen. That friend was Christy Gallagher: but he was mistaken—that’s all.
Mabel. I hope that’s all. But I’ve no dependance on him for a friend, nor has my mother.
Owen. Why, he was saying to me, and I could not say against it, that he had a right to propose for the inn if he could, though Gilbert and we wanted to get it.
Mabel. Then I wonder why Christy should be preferred rather than my mother.
Owen. Then that’s a wonder—and I can’t understand how that was.