"Faith, I dare do anything," he replied, and, seizing her hand, plunged the lifted finger up to the second joint in the contents of the inkstand, thus effectually ending the argument.
"Oh!" cried Bessie, holding her hand, so the jetty fluid would not fall upon her gown or apron. "You horrid, horrid thing, see what you have done!"
Moore laughed heartily at her discomfiture, and in so doing recovered his usual cheerful spirits.
"Oh, the ink will wash off," he chuckled. "That is more than the mark you have left on my heart will do, for that is indelible."
Bessie stamped her tiny foot in her rage and made as though she would wipe her hand on Moore's coat, which caused the triumphant young man to seek sudden shelter behind the benches.
"I can't wash it off, Tom Moore."
"I can't wash it off, Tom Moore."
"Have you never been taught to perform your ablutions, Bessie?"
"Stupid! My other hand is burned and water will make it smart."