“To be sure,” replied Fergus; “I want, at all events, to stretch my legs, and to see what the night's about.”
He accordingly left the cabin.
“Mrs. Buckley,” said Reilly, “it was not for nothing I came here to-night. I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Your favor's granted, sir,” she replied—“granted, Mr. Reilly, even before I hear it—that is, supposin' always that it's in my power—to do it for you.”
“It is simply to carry a letter—and be certain that it shall be delivered to the proper person.”
“Well,” she replied, “sure that's aisily done. And where am I to deliver it?” she asked.
“That I shall let you know on some future occasion—perhaps within the course of a week or so.”
“Well, sir,” she replied, “I'd go twenty miles to deliver it—and will do so wid a heart and a half.”
“Well, Molly, I can tell you your journey won't be so far; but there is one thing you are to observe—you must never breathe it to a human creature.”
“I thought you knew me better, Mr. Reilly.”