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"Yes. You may bring it to me—to-morrow," returns she, with the faintest hesitation, which but enhances the value of the permission, whereon his heart once more knows hope and content. "Are you?" she says, at length, after a long silence. "Where have you been, Mona?" he asks, quietly, gazing into the great honest liquid eyes raised so willingly to his own..

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"Oh, may I niver agin see the light," cries this excitable damsel, rushing out to Mona, "if I iver hoped to lay eyes on yer face again! Where were ye at all, darlin'? An' I breakin' me heart wid fear for ye. Did ye know Tim Ryan was out to-night? When I heerd tell of that from that boy of the Cantys', I thought I'd have dhropped. 'Tis no good he's up to. Come in, asthore: you must be near kilt with the cowld." "It means—the missing will," returns she, in a voice that would have done credit to a priestess of Delphi. As she delivers this oracular sentence, she points almost tragically towards the wall in question. Mona throws open the door, and the visitors sail in, all open-eyed and smiling, with their very best company manners hung out for the day. All the people came out to meet Mīka´pi, and they carried him to his father's lodge. He untied the scalps from his belt and gave them to the poor widows, saying, "These are the scalps of your enemies; I wipe away your tears." Then every one rejoiced. All Mīka´pi's women relations went through the camp, shouting out his name and singing songs about him, and all prepared to dance the dance of triumph and rejoicing..