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Updated: June 13, 2025
"I'm very sorry, miss, if ye think I'm afther takin' a liberty," returned Pat firmly; "but I'd knock any man down who went to insult Miss Elleney." Elleney dropped her arms from her aunt's neck and whisked round, her blue eyes blazing through her tears. "I'll thank ye not to be mixin' yerself up with my business at all, Pat Rooney. Nobody asked you to meddle." "Was it Mr.
"Is it cryin' ye are?" said Pat sternly. For all answer Elleney sobbed afresh. The young man drew nearer, and Elleney tilted up one elbow as a hint to him to keep his distance. "Bedad, ye have no right to be cryin'," remarked Pat in a withering tone. "It was the other way wid ye altogether when I looked in through the door a while ago, on my way back from me dinner.
Elleney raised her eyes and looked at Pat, and then dropped them again. "He's the only one in the wide world that cares for me," she said, with a quivering lip. "Bless us and save us!" gasped Mrs. McNally. "If that's the way it is, Pat, ye'd best be off with yourself." Pat turned as red as a cherry, and then as white as his own flour.
If I hadn't seen it wid me own two eyes," he added with scornful severity, "I wouldn't have believed it was you that was in it at all." Elleney jerked down her apron, and looked up with eyes that blazed beneath their swollen lids. "How dar' ye speak to me that way?" she cried. Pat snorted: "To be sure I've no right to say a word at all," he returned, with wrathful irony.
"It wouldn't be Bridget!" cried she, laughing till every little white tooth was visible. "That's a bad shot I'm afeard ye're no hand at guessin'." "I wished it was Nanny," said Elleney earnestly; "she's the best-hearted girl in the world." "You wished it was her, do ye? Well, I'm sorry I can't gratify ye. My choice was made before I ever set eyes on e'er a one of them."
McNally said, "One more or less didn't make much differ, an' sure the Lord 'ud be apt to make it up to her, an' Elleney was a useful little girl, a great hand at her needle, an' with a wonderful turn for business, God bless her." Mrs. McNally invariably alluded to the odd little house where her many avocations were carried on as her "establishment," and spoke habitually of "the business."
"What in the world is Elleney cryin' for?" she exclaimed; "an' goodness gracious! look at Mr. Brennan, the show he is! Is it up the chimney ye were? For the matter of that Pat isn't much better. What's all this, m'mah?" "I'm sure I couldn't tell ye, me dear," returned her mother. "I can't get a word o' sense out of any of them. Brian Brennan here says that Pat is afther bein' the death of him."
The eyes were dried, the sobs checked, and soon Elleney emerged from her garret, and came clattering down the corkscrew stairs in her unyielding little best boots, clad all in her Sunday finery, every sunshiny hair in its place, and her blooming face a vision of wonder and delight to any chance beholder.
"Sure I know that very well, Miss Elleney, darlint I know I might just as well be cryin' for the moon. But the murder's out now, an' 'pon me word I'm glad of it. I couldn't stop here the way I am I'd go mad altogether. I'll throuble ye to look out for another boy, Mrs. McNally, ma'am I wish to leave in a week's time." Mrs. McNally gasped.
"I couldn't for the life o' me help it," she explained as they crowded round her. "When I had the door opened who did I see but himself" designating Brian "with his impident arm round Elleney's waist the bould little scut!" "Sure, I didn't ax him to put it there," protested Elleney, beginning to cry; "I didn't rightly know what he was doin'."
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