Legrange, smiling tenderly,
as happy wives will do in speaking of the future of a bride.
"I came to ask you to go up stairs with me, Mrs. Ginniss," continued
she with a little agitation in her sweet voice. "There is something
for you to see."
"Sure an' I will, ma'am. Is it the chambers isn't settled to shute
yees?"
"Oh, no! every thing is admirable, except that we must contrive a
little bed for 'Toinette upon the couch in my room."
"An' faith, that's asy done, ma'am. There's lashin's o' blankets an'
sheets an' pillers not in use at all, at all. We've plenty uv ivery
thin' in this house, glory be to God!"
Mrs. Legrange smiled a little at the satisfaction with which the
Irish woman contemplated a superfluity, even when not belonging to
herself; and led the way to her own chamber, where sat Dora, as she
had sat many a time within those four walls, holding Sunshine upon
her lap, and, while loosening her clothes for the night, telling her
one of the stories of which the child was never weary.
"See here, Mrs. Ginniss!" said the mother hastily, as she stripped
the frock from the child's white shoulders, and showed a little
linen bag hung about her neck by a silken cord. "Did you ever see
that before?"
"Sure an' what would ail me owld eyes not to seen it, whin me own
fingers sewed it, an' me own han's hoong it aboot the little
crather's nick?"
"You are quite sure it is the very same?"
"Quite an' intirely; for more by token the clot' is a bit uv the
linen gownd that my mother give me whin I wor married to Michael,
an' the sthring wor to a locket that my b'y give me one Christmas
Day.
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