“Wherever you are, my dear, the home will be sweet,” said Peggy. “Though of course it wouldn’t be that without your ’usband, for it takes two to make a fight, you know, an’ it takes two no less, I think, to make things pleasant, but—dear, dear, what a disagreeable thing it is to ’ave to dress in a ’urry, though one shouldn’t—”
“Look alive, there! look al–i–ve!” roared O’Connor, putting his head in at the door. “Daylight’s a-breakin’, an’ they won’t—”
“Oh! Terrence, that reminds me—don’t forget our pets,” cried Nellie, who had steadily declined to speak of them as “live stock.”
“All right, missis. It’s lookin’ after them I am this minnit.”
The Irishman ran, as he spoke, to the styes and hutches where the pigs and rabbits were kept and opened the doors.
“Out wid ye!” he cried, “the Act of Emancipation’s passed, and ye’re all free—ivery mother’s son of ye.”
Accustomed to his voice and his caressing hand, the astonished creatures seemed to look up at him in surprise.
“Be aff, at wance, hooroo!” cried the excited man, with a clap of his hands and a Donnybrook yell that sent all the “pets” leaping and squealing into their native jungle.
Soon after that the boat was bounding out to sea under the impulse of strong arms and willing hearts. A few minutes more, and they were receiving the warm congratulations of the passengers and crew of the steamer. Then the order was given to go ahead full speed, and the engine’s great heart seemed to throb sympathetically within the hearts of the rescued ones as the vessel cut her way swiftly through the Southern Ocean—homeward bound for Old England! Nevertheless, there was a touch of sadness in the breasts of all as they turned their farewell gaze on the receding island and thought of the pets, the old hut, the long period of mingled pleasure and suffering, and the lonely grave.