the bailiff.

"You see, Dermody," he said, "here is my son in your
cottage--when he ought to be in my house." He turned, and looked
at me as I stood with my arm round little Mary, patiently waiting
for my opportunity to speak. "George," he said, with the hard
smile which was peculiar to him, when he was angry and was trying
to hide it, "you are making a fool of yourself there. Leave that
child, and come to me."

Now, or never, was my time to declare myself. Judging by
appearances, I was still a boy. Judging by my own sensations, I
had developed into a man at a moment's notice.

"Papa," I said, "I am glad to see you home again. This is Mary
Dermody. I am in love with her, and she is in love with me. I
wish to marry her as soon as it is convenient to my mother and
you."

My father burst out laughing. Before I could speak again, his
humor changed. He had observed that Dermody, too, presumed to be
amused. He seemed to become mad with anger, all in a moment.

"I have been told of this infernal tomfoolery," he said, "but I
didn't believe it till now. Who has turned the boy's weak head?
Who has encouraged him to stand there hugging that girl? If it's
you, Dermody, it shall be the worst day's work you ever did in
your life." He turned to me again, before the bailiff could
defend himself. "Do you hear what I say? I tell you to leave
Dermody's girl, and come home with me."