North, South and over the Sea Part 29

"Well done!" cried Pat approvingly, while Anna Maria giggled.

"Maybe there's others that thinks different," said Brian in a nettled tone.

"Oh yes," put in Anna Maria quickly, "her elders and betters--was that what you were goin' to say? Juliana's to be had, Mr. Brian. She'd be a mother to ye."

"Upon me word, Nanny," said Mrs. McNally, "it doesn't become ye to be talkin' that way of your elder sister."

"Sure, what harm?" responded Nanny blithely. "All I said was she'd be a mother to him. Sure, what could be better than that?"

Brian, with all his faults, was gifted with a sense of humour, and looked at Anna Maria with a twinkle in his eye.

"Bedad," he said, "I've that much respect for Miss Juliana I'd be afraid o' me life to ask her to put up with me."

"Well, there's Bridget then," said Nanny. "Bridget's a fine girl, an'

she's got a fine fortun', an' the whole of us knows that's what _you're_ lookin' afther, Mr. Brian."

"I wouldn't say that altogether," said Brian, stammering a little.

"Yous all know the way it is with me. 'Tis me father that's makin' the match for me, and I have to choose one of the family. No one can feel more sorry nor I do for the unfort'nate mistake I'm afther makin'; I went altogether too quick, and I was very much to blame. I'm sure I ax Miss Elleney's pardon."

Elleney made a little inarticulate rejoinder, and turned away. Pat looked daggers at his whilom victim, and Mrs. McNally, folding her arms, looked sternly round.

"The less said about some things the better," she remarked. "Mr.

Brian, I'll trouble ye to go into the parlour--ye'd best go with him too, Nanny; all the girls are there."

"Will ye step up to the show-room?" said Nanny, with a giggle.

"Troth," returned Brian, who was now in some measure recovering his self-possession, "I think the best o' the stock is what I'm afther seein' in the shop."

He followed her out of the room, and a slight scuffle was presently heard in the pa.s.sage. Mrs. McNally solemnly closed the door, and came back to Pat and Elleney, who stood looking equally downcast and confused.

"I'd like to know, Pat Rooney," she said, gazing at the young man sternly, "what talk at all this is between you and me niece? What business is it o' yours to interfere? I don't understand it at all, Elleney--I'm very much put about--"

"It's no fault of Miss Elleney's, ma'am," said Pat quickly. "She'd nothin' to say to it at all. I forgot meself altogether. When I seen that fellow makin' little of a chance that I'd give the two eyes out o' my head for--"

"O Pat, whisht for goodness sake!" interrupted Elleney. "Ye oughtn't to be talkin' like that."

"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.

"Isn't it the great fool you are, Pat Rooney, to go give up your good place for a stupid notion like this? Ye know Miss Elleney 'ud never demean herself to you."

"Ay, ma'am, I know she looks on me as the dirt under her feet."

"Then stop where ye are," said Mrs. McNally, comfortably. "You're a very good boy when you don't let your wits go wool-gatherin'. As for my niece, she's no notion of encouragin' any nonsense--have ye, Elleney?"

Elleney's long lashes were downcast, and she nervously twisted her ap.r.o.n.

"Sure ye haven't, dear?" said her aunt persuasively. "Tell the poor foolish fellow that ye haven't, an' then he'll be puttin' it altogether out of his head."

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.

"Miss Elleney, dear," he whispered, "d'ye know what ye're sayin'? D'ye know I'm such a great big fool that I'm beginning to think the most outrageous nonsense. I'll be beginnin' to think soon, me jewel, that ye might some day be gettin' a bit fond o' me, an' maybe say Yes when I ax ye a question. Sure ye didn't think of that, alanna?"

"Will ye whisht, ye impident fellow?" cried Mrs. McNally angrily. "Of course she thought o' no such thing."

Elleney turned her sweet eyes deprecatingly towards her aunt, and murmured very faintly--

"I don't know--I--I think I did."

Half-an-hour afterwards Mrs. McNally entered the parlour with a dubious, almost timid, expression on her good-natured face. Most of her family was gathered round the hearth, talking in m.u.f.fled tones, and with gloomy countenances. Behind the window-curtain Brian Brennan and Anna Maria were t.i.ttering together. Mrs. McNally jerked her thumb inquiringly over her shoulder, and raised her eyebrows.

"Is that the way it is?" she whispered.

"You'd better ask them," returned Juliana, with her nose in the air.

Bridget sniffed audibly.

"She reg'larly thrun herself at his head," said Mary spitefully.

"Did I indeed?" said Nanny, emerging from behind the window-curtain.

"Brian here could tell yous a different story. He's been beggin' an'

prayin' this half-hour, an' I haven't give him an answer yet."

"Ah, but you will!" said Brian, with an ingratiating smile.

"If I do then it 'ull be for the sake of servin' you out. Ye never heard the like of the life I'll be leadin' ye. Ye'll only be sorry once, an' that'll be for ever."

"I'll risk that," said Brian gallantly.

"Well, well, well," said Mrs. McNally, clapping her hands; "so it's to be you, Nanny! 'Pon me word it rains weddin's this evenin'. I don't know whether I'm on me head or me heels. There's Elleney, now--nothin'll serve her but to go takin' up with Pat Rooney."

"Pat Rooney!" exclaimed Anna Maria, while the rest of the family echoed the name in varying tones of shrill disapproval.

"Aye, indeed," said Mrs. McNally, dropping into a chair.

"Pat Rooney. Her mind's made up, it seems, and 'pon me word, though I thought she'd have looked higher, I can't altogether blame the girl.

Sure what sort of a husband can she expect, and her without a penny?

An old widower maybe, or maybe a fellow with one leg. Pat's gettin'