Nelly laughed lightly. “Do you say so?” she said with mock solemnity.
“It’s only an ould shirt I’m bringing you to patch, Nelly,” said Davy; “but here I am, what’s left of me, to take me or lave me, and not much choice either ways.”
“Then I take you, sir,” said Nelly. “And as for the money,” she whispered in a meaning voice, “I’ll take Ballamooar myself and give you trust.”
With a cry of joy Davy caught her to his breast and held her there as in a vice. “Then kiss me on it again and swear to it,” he cried, “Again! Again! Don’t be in a hurry woman! Aw, kissing is mortal hasty work! Take your time, girl! Once more! Shocking, is it? It’s like the bags of the bees that we were stealing when we were boys! Another! Then half a one, and I’m done!”
Since they had spoken to Willie Quarrie they had given no further thought to him, when he stepped forward and said out of the darkness: “If you plaze, capt’n, Mr. Lovibond was telling me to give you this lether and this other thing,” giving a letter and a book to Davy.
“Hould hard, though; what’s doing now?” said Davy, turning them over in his hand.
“Let us go into the house and look,” said Nelly.
But Davy had brought out his matchbox, and was striking a light. “Hould up my billycock, boy,” said he; and in another moment Willie Quarrie was holding Davy’s hat on end to shield from the breeze the burning match which Nelly held inside of it. Then Davy, bareheaded, proceeded to examine what Lovibond had sent him.
“A book tied up in a red tape, eh?” said Davy. “Must be the one he was writing in constant, morning and evening, telling hisself and God A’mighty what he was doing and wasn’t doing, and where he was going to and when he was going to go. Aw, yes, he always kep’ a diarrhea.”
“A diary, Davy,” said Nelly.