"Well, it is a shame; do you know what I've heerd?"

"What?"

"Why, neither more nor less than that _purty_ Miss Norah is setting her sthraw bonnet at Pat Kinchela."

"No!"

"It's the heaven's truth; didn't I see her to day, lookin' at him dhreadful? _I_ wouldn't look at a man the way she did, no, not if he was made of goold."

"Whist! Nelly; look yondher! if there isn't Pat, see and that consated minx walkin' _arm-in-arm_; bless your sowl, there's quality manners for ye. I wonder, for my part, the road doesn't open and swally such impidence right up; now just obsarve them, sthruttin' along as if everybody else was the dirt undher their feet. Well, if that isn't owdaciousness, I wish somebody would tell me what is."

But, inasmuch as our story has more to do with Pat and Norah than with those chattering specimens of a rather numerous cla.s.s, we'll attend to _them_, and let the others go about their business--of detraction.

Pat has just hazarded an important question, as would appear from the sudden and more brilliant flush that spread over pretty Norah's cheek, than from any significancy in her reply, which was simply:

"You're mighty impident to-day, Mr. Kinchela."

"Athin, Norieen, jewel," answered Pat, "if it comes to the rights of the thing, how the divil can I help it? Sure an' haven't you kept me danglin' afther you for nigh hand a twel'month, an' it's neither yis nor no, that I can squeeze out of your purty little mouth."

"Ah, indeed!" said Norah, with the shadow of a pout that might have been simulated, "then I suppose you'd be satisfied whichever it was."

"Faix, yis would be satisfactory enough," replied Pat, who did his wooing in rather a careless manner, philosophically.

"And if it happened to be no?"

"Why, thin, I suppose I'd have to put up wid that for the want of a betther."

"An' try your luck somewhere else, may-be?" continued Norah, with a dash of lemon.

"An' why not?" answered Pat, with apparent carelessness. "If you couldn't ketch a throut in one place, you wouldn't come back wid an empty basket, would you? unless, may-be, you had no particular appet.i.te for fish."

"Then, sir, you have my permission to bait your hook as soon as you like, for I have no idea of nibblin'," said Norah, letting go Pat's arm, and walking _very_ fast--not so fast, though, but that our cavalier friend could keep up with her, flinging in occasional morsels of aggravation.

"Now, don't be foolish, Norah; you're only tellin' on yourself. The boys will see that we've had a tiff, and the girls will be sure to say you're _jealous_."

"Jealous, indeed! I must _love_ you first, Mr. Impidence."

"So you do."

"I ain't such a fool, _sir_."

"Yes, you are, _ma'am_; an' what's more nor that, you can't help it, _ma'am_."

"Can't I?"

"Not a bit of it. You've caught the sickness, an' it's the goolden ring that'll cure you, an' nothin' besides."

"It isn't you that'll be docthor, anyway."

"The divil a one else."

"High hangin' to all liars."

"I'd say that, too, only I wouldn't like to lose you, Norah, afther all. Come now, darlin'," he went on, varying his tactics, "don't let us quarrel on this blessed day; let us make it up _acush_; take a howld of my arm, this right arm, that would work itself up to the elbow to do you any sarvice, or smash into small pitatys the blaggard that offered you the ghost of an offince."

This blarney-flavored speech had some effect upon Norah, yet she concealed it like--a woman, sinking it down into her heart, and calling up a vast amount of anger to overwhelm it. Is it at all astonishing that the latter flew away in words, while the former nestled there for ever? Poor, foolish little Norah, her real feeling concealed by the cloud of temper she had raised, thought at that moment there was not a more unlovable being in existence than Pat, and what's more, she said so.

"Mr. Kinchela," said she, in her iciest manner, "I'm obleeged to you for your company, such as it is, but here is Cousin Pether, an' you needn't throuble yerself, or be wearin out shoe-leather any more comin'

afther me."

"Norah!" said Pat, suddenly stricken into gravity, "are you in airnest?"

"I wish you the best of good mornin's, sir;" and taking Cousin Peter's arm, with a provoking smile on her lip, and triumph in her eye, off went Norah, leaving Pat gazing after her, looking rather the reverse of wise--once only did she turn as she pa.s.sed the corner of the street, but that simple circ.u.mstance rekindled hope within Pat's soul.

As he was thus standing, utterly unconscious of the observation he attracted, he was suddenly accosted by his best friend, Jim Dermot.

"Why, tear an' nounthers," said Jim, "is it ketchin' flies, or fairy-sthruck, or dead all out you are, Pat, avic? why, you look the picther of misfortune, hung in a black frame."

"Hollo, Jim, is that you?" cried Pat, waking out of his reverie, "wasn't that too bad intirely?"

"So it was--what was it?" replied Jim.

"Why, to lave me stuck here like a post, and to go off wid that _omadhaun_ Pether."

"Well, it was quare, sure enough," replied Jim, without the slightest idea what Pat was driving at, yet hoping to arrive at it better from an apparent knowledge than by downright questioning. "To run off," he continued, "an' wid Pether, of all fellows in the world;" adding to himself, "I wondher who the divil Pether is, and where he's run to?"

"I didn't think she could sarve me so," said Pat.

"Oh! it's a she that's in it, is it?" thought Jim, saying, with a sage shake of the head, "I nivir would have b'lieved it of her myself; but wimin _is_ conthrary divils, an' that's the truth. When did she go, Pat?"

"Why, now, this very minute."

"You don't say? well, an' what do you mane to do?"

"Do? why, nothing; what would you do?"

"Well, I believe I'd do _that same_, Pat, an' nothin' else."

"It isn't very likely that I'll let her know how much her conduct has hurt me."

"It might make her consated."

"She's a shameless jilt."

"That she is, as sure as her name is----what it is," said Jim, hoping Pat would fill up the pause.

"What would you advise me to do, Jim?" inquired Pat.