And Mrs. Handsomebody beamed fatuously at him!
Between mouthfuls he talked. "Do you remember how I used to call you Wiggie? And the time I hid the white rat in your bonnet box?"
Mrs. Handsomebody cackled. The Seraph kicked the table leg, unreproved. I drifted after Mary Ellen to the kitchen. "Isn't he fine?" I bragged.
"Divil a finer," agreed she.
"And 'tis yersilf, Masther John," she added, "is the very spit av him. Shure it's you should be the proud bye."
"And, Mary Ellen, you are to come and live with us, you know, and have all the 'followers' you want."
"Och," she laughed, "I'm done wid followers, me dear. To tell ye the truth, Mr. Watlin and I are plannin' to git hitched up, before the New Year. An uncle of his have died and left him enough to start him in the butcherin' business on his own account. So maybe you'll dance at me weddin' yet."
"I'll give you a nice present, Mary Ellen, dear," I promised, putting my arm around her.
"Yes," she went on, squeezing me, "and the cook next door was tellin' me last night, that the word is goin' about that Miss Margery an' Misther Harry is engaged too. So there's love
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