"Yes, miss. Oh, Miss Mona, if ye bethray me now 'twill be all up wid me. Fegs an' intirely, miss, they'll murdher me out uv hand.",
"But I hope you will not be disappointed when you see it," she says, gently. "You have the real Killarney fern, Sir Nicholas, I can see; the other, I speak of, though to me almost as lovely, is not a bit like it.",
"Is it?"—witheringly. Then, with some impatience, "You will be far happier in an arm-chair: do go into the parlor. There is really no reason why you should remain here.".
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