“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 passage.  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.”