"The blessin' iv Christ on ye, avourneen!"
There was a pause for some moments—broken at length by the sound of footsteps, seldom heard in that unfrequented spot.
"We must go home now," said Kate, wiping away her tears. Nurse, still silent, rose, and lifted her can.
"An where is it yer going to tache? that iver I should say the word!" she asked with a fresh burst of grief. "In London—in London, musha, but it's a big place, and sure the house o' Lords is there, an I'll go bail the masther—'ill meet many a one that heard tell iv D'Arcy Vernon in Dungar—who knows Miss Kate; but some iv thim 'ill spake to the Queen, to make him a jidge or a gineral, or the like, any ways; it's sich a tunderin' big place, that ye might be tachin' in one corner, and livin' like a prencess in another, an no one a bit the wiser; sure, yer right hand wouldn't know what the lift was doin', in a big place like that."
"Very true, nurse, I dare say no one will know what I am about."
"The Lord send!" said Mrs. O'Toole, heartily, as the fact of Kate's teaching for money began to lose half its horrors in the fancied possibility of concealing the inglorious occupation.
"Now, nurse," said Kate, pausing at the gate of their little domain, "remember our agreement, you must not make bad worse to grandpapa."
"Niver you fear, darlint, I'd bite the tongue out iv me head, afore I'd spake the word, that id vex yer; only dont send me from ye, mavourneen."
True to her word, when the Colonel, after dinner—in consequence of Kate's having intimated that nurse knew how affairs stood—said—
"Bad times, Nelly—bad times—worse than I ever thought I should live to see."