Roberts: “What—what would you
do?”
Campbell: “I don’t know. Look
here, Roberts: would you mind sitting a little
way off, so as to look as if I didn’t belong
with you? I don’t want to be involved in
this little row of yours unnecessarily.”
Roberts: “Oh, come now, Willis! You
don’t think she’ll make any trouble?
I apologized. I said everything I could think
of. She must think I was sincere.”
Campbell: “In taking her for a cook?
I’ve no doubt she did. But I don’t
see how that would help matters. I don’t
suppose she’s gone for an officer; but I suspect
she’s looking up the largest Irishman of her
acquaintance, to come back and interview you.
I should advise you to go out and get on some train;
I’d willingly wait here for Amy and Agnes; but
you see the real cook might come here, after you went,
and I shouldn’t know her from Adam—or
Eve. See?”
Roberts, desperately. “I see—Good
heavens! Here comes that woman back; and a man
with her. Willis, you must help me out.”
Roberts gets falteringly to his feet, and stands in
helpless apprehension, while Mr. and Mrs. McIlheny
bear down upon him from the door. Mr. McIlheny,
a small and wiry Irishman, is a little more vivid for
the refreshment he has taken. He is in his best
black suit, and the silk hat which he wears at a threatening
slant gives dignified impressiveness to his figure
and carriage. With some dumb-show of inquiry and
assurance between himself and his wife, he plants
himself in front of Roberts, in an attitude equally
favorable for offence and defence.
THE McILHENYS, ROBERTS, AND CAMPBELL
McIlheny: “And are ye the mahn that’s
after takun’ my wife for yer cuke?”
Mrs. McIlheny, indicating Campbell, absorbed in his
magazine: “And there’s the other
wan I saw jokun’ wid um, and puttun’ um
up to it.”
McIlheny, after a swift glance at Campbell’s
proportions and self-possession: “That’s
what ye’re after thinkun’, Mary; but I
haven’t got annything to do with what ye’re
after thinkun’. All I wannt to know is
what this mahn meant by preshumin’ to speak to
a lady he didn’t know, and takun’ her
for a cuke.” To Roberts: “Will
ye tell me that, ye—”
Roberts, in extreme embarrassment: “Yes,
yes, certainly; I shall be very glad to explain, if
you’ll just step here to the corner. We’re
attracting attention where we are—”
McIlheny: “Attintion! Do ye suppose
I care for attintion, when it’s me wife that’s
been insulted?” He follows Roberts up, with Mrs.
McIlheny, as he retires to the corner where she had
been sitting, out of the way of the people coming
and going. Campbell, after a moment, closes his
magazine, and joins them.
Roberts: “Insulted? By no manner of
means! Nothing was further from my thoughts.
I—I—can explain it all in a moment,
my dear sir, if you will have patience; I can indeed.
I have the highest respect for the lady, and I’m
quite incapable of offering her an affront. The
fact is—I hardly know how to begin—”
