"I beg to decline taking your month's notice, sir," he answered.
"You shall have no opportunity of repeating what you have just
said to me. I will send in my accounts to-night. And I will leave
your service to-morrow."

"We agree for once," retorted my father. "The sooner you go, the
better."

He stepped across the room and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Listen to me," he said, making a last effort to control himself.
"I don't want to quarrel with you before a discarded servant.
There must be an end to this nonsense. Leave these people to pack
up and go, and come back to the house with me."

His heavy hand, pressing on my shoulder, seemed to press the
spirit of resistance out of me. I so far gave way as to try to
melt him by entreaties.

"Oh, papa! papa!" I cried. "Don't part me from Mary! See how
pretty and good she is! She has made me a flag for my boat. Let
me come here and see her sometimes. I can't live without her"

I could say no more. My poor little Mary burst out crying. Her
tears and my entreaties were alike wasted on my father.

"Take your choice," he said, "between coming away of your own
accord, or obliging me to take you away by force. I mean to part
you and Dermody's girl."