“Very well, then; no meal, no answer.”
“And will you give me an answer if I give you the meal?”
“Honor bright, didn't I say it.”
“Go an' get it yourself then, an' see now, don't do as you always do, take double what you're allowed.”
Margiret, in direct violation of this paternal injunction, did most unquestionably take near twice the stipulated quantity for the widow, and, in order that there might be no countermand on the part of her father, as sometimes happened, she sent it off with one of the servants by a back way, so that he had no opportunity of seeing how far her charity had carried her beyond the spirit and letter of her instructions.
“Well,” said he, when she returned, “now for the answer; and before you give it, think of the comfort you'll have with him—how fine and nicely furnished his house is—he has carpets upon the rooms, ay, an' upon my sounds, on the very stairs itself! faix it's you that will be in state. Now, acushla, let us hear your answer.”
“It's very short, father; I won't have him.”
“Won't have him! and in the name of all that's unbiddable and undutiful, who will you have, if one may ax that, or do you intend, to have any one at all, or not?”
“Let me see,” she said, putting the side of her forefinger to her lips, “what day is this? Thursday. Well, then, on this day month, father, I'll tell my mother who I'll have, or, at any rate, who I'd wish to have; but, in the mean time, nobody need ask me anything further about it till then, for I won't give any other information on the subject.”
The father looked very seriously into the fire for a considerable time, and was silent; he then drew his breath lengthily, tapped the table a little with his fingers, and exclaimed—“A month! well, the time will pass, and, as we must wait, why we must, that's all.”