“What's come over you,” said the father, equally alarmed; “are you beside yourself, sure enough, to send Hycy Burke sich a message as that? Sit down, ma colleen, sit down, an' never mind her—don't think of bringin' him back sich a message. Why, then,” he added, “in the name o' mercy, Kathleen, what has come over you, to trate a respectable young man like. Hycy Burke in that style?”
“Simply, father, because I don't wish to receive any messages at all from him.”
“But your mother an' I is of a different opinion, Kathleen. We wish you to resave messages from him; an' you know you're bound both by the laws of God an' man to obey us an' be guided by us.”
“I know I am, father,” she replied; “an' I hope I haven't been an undutiful child to either of you for so far.”
“That's true, Kathleen—God sees it's truth itself.”
“What message do you expect to bring back, Nanny?” said the mother, addressing the girl.
“An answer,” replied the girl, seeing that everything must be and was above board—“an answer to the letther he sent her.”
“Did he send you a letther?” asked her father, seriously; “an' you never let us know a word about it?—did he send you a letther?”
Kathleen paused a moment and seemed to consult Hanna's looks, who had now joined them. At length she replied, slowly, and as if in doubt whether she ought to speak in the affirmative or not—“no, he sent me no letter.”
“Well now, take care, Kathleen,” said her mother; “I seen a letther in your hands this very mornin'.”