“What do you take me for, young man? I hope I know better. I wish Father Magrath heard you ask me that question; and for all your laced jacket——”
“Dearest aunt, Captain Power didn’t mean to offend you; I’m certain he——”
“Well, why did he dare to—(sob, sob)—did he see anything light about me, that he—(sob, sob, sob)—oh, dear! oh, dear! is it for this I came up from my little peaceful place in the West?—(sob, sob, sob)—General, George, dear; Lucy, my love, I’m taken bad. Oh, dear! oh, dear! is there any whiskey negus?”
After a time she was comforted.
At supper later on in the evening, I was deep in thought when a dialogue quite near me aroused me from my reverie.
“Don’t, now! don’t, I tell ye; it’s little ye know Galway, or ye wouldn’t think to make up to me, squeezing my foot.”
“You’re an angel, a regular angel. I never saw a woman suit my fancy before.”
“Oh, behave now. Father Magrath says——”
“Who’s he?”
“The priest; no less.”