Mr. Mulvaney caming in joost thin, guv a larf at the Frinchman, which made the puir museer furyiss.
“Mumsell” ses he, “I be not of the for chune hoonting sort as yere frind there” ses he.
“Whats that ye’re after saying” ses Larry, at wanse. “Did you spake me name?” ses he.
The Frinchman stud his grownd bravely, and droring himsilf prowdly up faced Mr. Moolvaney wid a stare.
“Jaccuse” ses he, “Museer Mulvaney of wooing the lady wid his eye on her forchune. Jaccuse”—ses he, but Mr. Mulvaney had him by the collar of his coat and museer was setting outside on the lon befure I cud rise to protist. Whin Mr. Mulvaney cam back I’m that insinsed wid his avil manners and the revylashun of his meen and greedy caracter that I skurcely cud aven look at him.
“Mr. Mulvaney” ses I “its a puir hard working girl I am, and its a mistake ye’re making in yure for chune hoonting hart whin ye think I’m after being rich. Ah go!” ses I, “I’m doon wid avery wan of you.”
And I wint opp to me milincully room, me hart sore and aking, for Miss Claire do be hating me feercely now, and Larry Mulvaney is no better than the Frinchman, but is after me puir bit of forchune. Ah wirrah, wirrah, wirrah! Its a sorry day whin me muther bore me.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE NEXT DAY
Miss Claire was down at brikfust brite and airly. I seen her setting at her plate—waiting for the family to appeer. Her eyes and cheeks wuz unnatshully brite.