"For the agint, miss. Oh, if ye tell on me now they'll kill me. Maxil, ye know; me lord's agint.",
"Yes, do, alannah!" says the old lady, standing with one hand upon her hips and the other holding tightly a prodigious "Champion." "'Twill set ye up afther yer walk.",
"Yes" replies he, slowly as though regretful that he cannot deny his own identity.,
"I sha'n't mind it very much," says Mona, earnestly. "It will be after all, only one half hour out of my whole day."
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"But they were troublesome, very troublesome," says Mrs. Geoffrey, with a retrospective sigh, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands together on her lap. "You can't imagine what a worry they were at times,—always ringing the college bell at the wrong hours, and getting tight!",
"Mona, it has all been too much for you," exclaims he, with deep concern.,
"Try, try to understand me," entreats she, desperately, following him and laying her hand upon his arm. "It is only this. It would not make you happy,—not afterwards, when you could see the difference between me and the other women you have known. You are a gentleman; I am only a farmer's niece." She says this bravely, though it is agony to her proud nature to have to confess it.,
"Partly," says Mona. "Not altogether: there was always a faint odor of pipes about Uncle Brian's room that does not belong to this."
She says this in such perfect good faith that Mr. Rodney roars with laughter.
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Developer Response,
"Why, Mona?"
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"Come on," he says, with a low furious laugh, that has no mirth in it, but is full of reckless defiance. "But first," to Ryan, "I'll square accounts with you."
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The momentous Friday comes at last, and about noon Mona and Geoffrey start for the Towers. They are not, perhaps, in the exuberant spirits that should be theirs, considering they are going to spend their Christmas in the bosom of their family,—at all events, of Geoffrey's family which naturally for the future she must acknowledge as hers. They are indeed not only silent, but desponding, and as they get out of the train at Greatham and enter the carriage sent by Sir Nicholas to meet them their hearts sink nearly into their boots, and for several minutes no words pass between them.
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Halin-Chen Response,
>"I hardly think this is Sunday work," she says, lightly; "but the poor little thing would have died if left out all night. Wasn't it well you saw him?"
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