"But ye said ye would let me have it!" persisted Peg.
"Don't you wish to know who the man is, whom I have just described,
my dear Miss O'Connell?"
"No, I don't. Why should I? With me father waitin' in New York for
me--an' I'm waitin' for that--" and again she pointed to his pocket-
book.
"Miss O'Connell--may I say--Margaret, I was your uncle's adviser--
his warm personal friend. We spoke freely of you for many weeks
before he died. It was his desire to do something for you that would
change your whole life and make it full and happy and contented.
Were your uncle alive, I know of nothing that would give him greater
pleasure than for his old friend to take you, your young life--into
his care. Miss O'Connell--I am the man!"
It was the first time this dignified gentleman had ever invited a
lady to share his busy existence, and he felt the warm flush of
youthful nervousness rush to his cheeks, as it might have done had
he made just such a proposal, as a boy. It really seemed to him that
he WAS a boy as he stood before Peg waiting for her reply.
Again she did not say exactly what he had thought and hoped she
would have said.
"Stop it!" she cried. "What's the matther with you men this morning?
Ye'd think I was some great lady, the way ye're all offerin' me yer
hands an' yer names an' yer influences an' yer dignities.
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