"And so we have, some of us at least; and I do not believe even the
ladies will refuse a bit of this nice tongue, or some cold chicken.
What do you say, Dora?" asked Mr. Legrange gayly.
"No tongue for her, please; she is supplied," remarked Mr. Burroughs
sotto voce; and Dora, with a little mutinous glance, passed her
plate with,--
"A slice of tongue, if you please, Mr. Legrange."
"Never mind: wait a few days, and we will see," murmured Burroughs
threateningly; and Dora did not care to retort, but, blushing
brightly, began an eager conversation with Sunshine, who had nestled
a chair in between those of her mother and Dora, and made lively
claims upon the attention of both.
An hour or two later, Mrs. Legrange went to seek her housekeeper,
and found her seated upon the step of the back door, her hands
clasped around her knees, and softly crooning a wild Irish melody to
herself as she rocked slowly backward and forward, her eyes fixed
upon the little crescent moon, swimming like a silver boat in the
golden sea of sunset.
"An' isn't it a purty sight, you?" asked she, rising as Mrs.
Legrange spoke to her. "Sure an' its the hooney-moon for Misther
Booros an' the swate young lady that's to marry him."
"Yes, it's their honey-moon; and I believe it will be as bright and
as long a one as ever shone," said Mrs.
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