"No, be hivings, an' ye don't do nuthin' of thet sort, Bob," returned
the widow, good-naturedly, busying herself with a dust-rag. "This is
me own house, an' Oi've tended ter the loikes of them sort er fellers
afore. There'll be no more bother this toime. Besides, it's a paceful
house Oi'm runnin', an' Oi know ye'r way of sittling them things. It's
too strenurous ye are, Misther Hampton. And what did ye do wid the
young lady, Oi make bould to ask?"
Hampton carelessly waved his hand toward the rear room, the door of
which stood ajar, and blew a thick cloud of smoke into the air, his
eyes continuing to gaze dreamily through the open window toward the
distant hills.
"Who's running the game over at the Occidental?" he asked,
professionally.
"Red Slavin, bad cess to him!" and her eyes regarded her questioner
with renewed anxiety. "But sure now, Bob, ye mustn't think of playin'
yit awhoile. Yer narves are in no fit shape, an' won't be fer a wake
yit."
He made no direct reply, and she hung about, flapping the dust-rag
uneasily.
"An' what did ye mane ter be doin' wid the young gyurl?" she questioned
at last, in womanly curiosity.
Hampton wheeled about on the hard chair, and regarded her quizzingly.
"Mrs. Guffy," he said, slowly, "you've been a mother to me, and it
would certainly be unkind not to give you a straight tip. Do? Why,
take care of her, of course. What else would you expect of one
possessing my kindly disposition and well-known motives of
philanthropy? Can it be that I have resided with you, off and on, for
ten years past without your ever realizing the fond yearnings of my
heart? Mrs. Guffy, I shall make her the heiress to my millions; I
shall marry her off to some Eastern nabob, and thus attain to that high
position in society I am so well fitted to adorn--sure, and what else
were you expecting, Mrs. Guffy?"
"A loikely story," with a sniff of disbelief. "They tell me she 's old
Gillis's daughter over to Bethune."
"They tell you, do they?" a sudden gleam of anger darkening his gray
eyes. "Who tell you?"
"Sure, Bob, an' thet 's nuthin' ter git mad about, so fur as I kin see.
The story is in iverybody's mouth. It wus thim sojers what brought ye
in thet tould most ov it, but the lieutenant,--Brant of the Seventh
Cavalry, no less,--who took dinner here afore he wint back after the
dead bodies, give me her name."