“I can't understand Ginty at all,” replied the woman. “I think, although she has given up fortune tellin', that her head's not altogether right yet. She talks of workin' out some prophecy that she tould Sir Thomas Gourlay about himself and his daughter.”
“She may talk as much about that as she likes,” replied the old fellow. “She called him plain Thomas Gourlay, didn't she, and said he'd be stripped of his title?”
“So she told me; and that his daughter would be married to Lord Dunroe.”
“Ay, and so she tould myself; but there she's in the dark. The daughter will be Lady Dunroe, no doubt, for they're goin' to be married; but she's takin' a bad way to work out the prophecy against the father by —hem—”
“By what?”
“I'm not free to mention it, Kate; but this very day it's to take place, and. I suppose it'll soon be known to everybody.”
“Well, but sure you might mention it to me.”
“I'll make a bargain with you, then. Set Ginty to work; let her find out your husband; get me the papers you spake of, and I'll tell you all about it.”
“With all my heart, father. I'm sure I don't care if you had them this minute. Let Ginty try her hand, and if she can succeed, well and good.”
“Well, Kate,” said her father, “I'm glad I seen you; but I think it was your duty to call upon me long before this.”