He smiled.
“A few hundred only” ses he. “Jest enuff for our imejit ixpinses. Its absurd but I havent a red cent” ses he. “I’ll borrer or steel it if I have to” ses he, trying to larf, the puir lad.
“Mr. Dudley” ses I, “Will ye be doing a puir loan hardwarking girl a favour?”
“Why certinly” ses he. “What can I do for you?”
“Its siven hundred dollars I’m after having in me stocking. I droo it oot of the bank oanly a day or two ago, fur the dummed welth do be the bane of me existunse. Shure I’ll nivver know anny pace of mind so long as I’m ritch. Mr. Mulvaney do protist that he wishes me munney soonk in hell, and museer is after saying he loves me better than me bagatell. Its tisting the lads I’d be doing, and ef ye’ll do me the favour of accipting me bit of munney——”
“Oh Delia!” ses Miss Claire.
“No, no” ses Mr. Harry at wanse, but she pulled down his face, and wispered in his eer, and suddintly he toorned and beemed at me.
“Very good! Delia” ses he, “guv me the munney.”
I wint into the china closet and tuk it frum me stocking—thin I brort it over to Mr. Harry. He hild on to me hand arfter taking it, and his voyce trimbled a bit.
“Yere a foine woman” ses he, “and its a lucky chap who gets you. Your bit of munney” ses he, “will be ten times its size whin it reeches you again.”