“Faith, I’d take you to be a mane rascal.”
“Well,” said Ernest eagerly, “the girl you have in that room has promised to marry me. I have not spoken to her for several months. Now, will you drive me away without letting me speak to her?”
“Och; that’s it, is it? By the houly St. Pathrick, I cud niver find it in me heart to deny a feller that small a favor. Biddy would call me a mane dog, ef I was to do as dhirty a trick as that. It’s spaking to her, is it? Well spake, but be as quick as you ken.”
“Thank you, thank you, my good friend,” said Ernest, as tremblingly he applied his mouth to the key-hole.
“Mildred? Mildred!” he called.
“O, Ernest, is it you?” she asked, drawing her chair to the door.
“Yes; are you well?”
“I am, except heart-sickness.”
“I do not know how you have stood it.” replied Ernest. “But what are your prospects?”
“O! they are dark, Ernest, so dark at times. But how came you here?”