McGinnis jumped up quickly and turned the tall, bronzed man around
with a hand on each shoulder--though he had to stand tip-toe to do
it, and poured forth his feelings as follows:
"Send for her! Bring her back to ye! Why man, yer heart is heavy
without her; aye, just as yer HAIR is goin' grey, so is yer LIFE
without the one thing in it that kapes it warm and bright. Send for
her! Don't let the Saxons get hold of her with their flattherin'
ways and their insincerities, an' all. Bring her back to ye and kape
her with ye until the right man comes along--an' he must be an
Irishman--straight of limb an' of character--with the joy of livin'
in his heart and the love of yer little girl first to him in the
wurrld, an' then ye'll know ye've done the right thing by her; for
it's the only happiness yer Peg'll ever know--to be an Irish wife
an' an Irish mother as well as an Irish daughther. Send for her--I'm
tellin' ye, Frank O'Connell, or it's the sore rod ye'll be makin'
for yer own back."
McGinnis's words sank in.
When they parted for the night with many promises to meet again ere
long, McConnell sat down and wrote Peg a long letter, leaving the
choice in her hands, but telling her how much he would like to have
her back with him.
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