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"Look at the bogh smiling in his sleep. Just like a baby mermaid on the egg of a dogfish. But where's the ould man at all? Has he seen it? We must have it in the papers. The Times?Yes, and the 'Tiser too. 'The beloved wife of Mr. Capt'n Peter Quilliam, of a boy a girl, I mane. Aw, the wonder there'll be all the island over everybody getting to know.
"'But talking and talking, and scheming for ever, for coming home." "Ah! home is a full cup," moaned Grannie. "It was a show the way that lad was fond of it. 'Give me a plate of mate, bolstered with cabbage, and what do I care for their buns and sarves, Grannie, says he. Aw, boy veen, boy bogh!" "What does the nightingale care for a golden cage when he can get a twig?" said Cæsar.
Then Grannie awoke with a start, and reproached herself for sleeping. "But dear heart alive," she cried, with both hands up, "the bogh villish is mended wonderful." Nancy came back in her stockings, blinking and yawning. She clapped and crowed at sight of the child's altered face.
"Water, there," shouted Pete. "It's a thundering blockhead I am for sure frightning the life out of people with stories fit for a funeral." "No, no," said Kate; "I'm not faint Why should you think so?" "Of coorse, not, bogh," said Nancy, who was behind her in a twinkling. "White is she? Well, what of it, man? It's only becoming on a girl's wedding-day. Take a lil sup, though, woman there, there!"
"Dear heart alive, darling, what is it?" he said. "My poor girl, what's troubling you at all? Tell me, now tell me, bogh, tell me." "It's nothing, Pete, nothing. Don't ask me," said Kate. But still she sobbed as if her heart would break. Pete stood a moment by her side, smoothing her arm with his hand.
"Lay them on the fender to air, Nancy I'll not undress baby yet awhile. And see it's nearly seven." "I'll be pinning my shawl on and away like the wind," said Nancy. "The bogh!" she said, with the pin between her teeth. "She's off again. Do you really think, now, the angels in heaven are as sweet and innocent, Kirry? I don't. They can't if they're grown up.
Count Ananoff was the ideal diplomatist: cautious, far-sighted, impenetrable, and exact, outwardly ceremonious and dignified, not too skeptical of other men's qualities nor too confident of his own. His convictions might be summed up, according to the old Russian joke, in the one word Nabuchadnezar, Na Bogh ad ne Czar, "There is no God but the Czar."
"Phil!" he cried, and leaping up he took Philip by both hands and fell to sobbing like a child. They went upstairs together. The bedroom was dense with steam, and the forms of two women were floating like figures in a fog. "There she is, the bogh," cried Pete in a pitiful wail.
Ever see anything prettier than a child's first step? Again, Kitty, bogh! But go to your new father this time. Aisy, now, aisy!" "Grive me a kiss first!" "One more, darling!" "Now face the other way. One two are you ready, Phil?" Phil held out his long white trembling hands. "Yes," with a smothered sob. "Three four and away!"
"Never mind the lion and the unicorn, father, but come and we'll change thy wet trousers." "'Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." "Aw, yes, we'll wash thee enough when we get to Ramsey. Come, then, bogh." He had dropped his ram's horn somewhere, and she took him by the hand.
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