Capt'n Davy's Honeymoon Part 21

"I should have been telling you first," said Davy, with downcast head, and in a tone of humiliation.

"Then what?" whispered Nelly.

"There's never no money at a dirty ould swiper that drinks and gambles everything. I'm on the ebby tide, Nelly, and my boat is on the rocks like a taypot. I'm broke, woman, I'm broke."

Nelly laughed lightly. "Do you say so?" she said with mock solemnity.

"It's only an ould s.h.i.+rt I'm bringing you to patch, Nelly," said Davy; "but here I am, what's left of me, to take me or lave me, and not much choice either ways."

"Then I take you, sir," said Nelly. "And as for the money," she whispered in a meaning voice, "I'll take Ballamooar myself and give you trust."

With a cry of joy Davy caught her to his breast and held her there as in a vice. "Then kiss me on it again and swear to it," he cried, "Again!

Again! Don't be in a hurry woman! Aw, kissing is mortal hasty work! Take your time, girl! Once more! Shocking, is it? It's like the bags of the bees that we were stealing when we were boys! Another! Then half a one, and I'm done!"

Since they had spoken to Willie Quarrie they had given no further thought to him, when he stepped forward and said out of the darkness: "If you plaze, capt'n, Mr. Lovibond was telling me to give you this lether and this other thing," giving a letter and a book to Davy.

"Hould hard, though; what's doing now?" said Davy, turning them over in his hand.

"Let us go into the house and look," said Nelly.

But Davy had brought out his matchbox, and was striking a light. "Hould up my billyc.o.c.k, boy," said he; and in another moment Willie Quarrie was holding Davy's hat on end to s.h.i.+eld from the breeze the burning match which Nelly held inside of it. Then Davy, bareheaded, proceeded to examine what Lovibond had sent him.

"A book tied up in a red tape, eh?" said Davy. "Must be the one he was writing in constant, morning and evening, telling hisself and G.o.d A'mighty what he was doing and wasn't doing, and where he was going to and when he was going to go. Aw, yes, he always kep' a diarrhea."

"A diary, Davy," said Nelly.

"Have it as you like, _Vauch_, and don't burn your little fingers,"

said Davy; and then he opened the letter, and with many interjections proceeded to read it.

"'Dear Captain. How can I ask you to forgive me for the trick I have played upon you? '(Forgive, is it?)' I have never had an appointment with the Manx lady; I have never had an intention of carrying her off from her husband; I have never seen her in church, and the story I have told you has been a lie from beginning to end.'"

Davy lifted his head and laughed.

"Another match, Willie," he cried. And while the boy was striking a fresh one Davy stamped out the burning end that Nelly dropped on to the gra.s.s, and said: "A lie! Well, it was an' it wasn't. A sort of a scriptural parable, eh?"

"Go on, Davy," said Nelly, impatiently, and Davy began again:

"'You know the object of that trick by this time' (Wouldn't trust), 'but you have been the victim of another' (Holy sailor!), 'to which I must also confess. In the gambling by which I won a large part of your money'

(True for you!) 'I was not playing for my own hand. It was for one who wished to save you from yourself.' (Lord a ma.s.sy!) 'That person was your wife' (Goodness me!), 'and all my earnings belong to her.' (Good thing, too!) 'They are deposited at Dumbell's in her name' (Right!), 'and---'"

"There--that will do," said Nelly, nervously.

"'And I send you the bank-book, together with the dock bonds,... which you transferred for Mrs. Quiggin's benefit... to the name... of her friend...'"

Davy's l.u.s.ty voice died off to a whisper.

"What is that?" said Nelly, eagerly.

"Nothin'," said Davy, very thick about the throat; and he rammed the letter into his breeches' pocket and grabbed at his hat. As he did so, a paper slipped to the ground. Nelly caught it up and held it on the breezy side of the flickering match.

It was a note from Jenny Crow: "'You dear old goosy; your jealous little heart found out who the Manx sailor was, but your wise little poll never once suspected that Mr. Lovibond could be anything to anybody, although I must have told you twenty times in the old days of the sweetheart from whom I parted. Good thing, too. Glad you were so stupid, my dear, for by helping you to make up your quarrel we have contrived to patch up our own. Good-by! What lovely stories I told you! And how you liked them!

We have borrowed your husband's berths for the Pacific steamer, and are going to have an Irish marriage tomorrow morning at Belfast--'"

"So they're a Co. consarn already," said Davy.

"'Good-by! Give your Manx sailor one kiss for me--'"

"Do it!" cried Davy. "Do it! What you've got to do only once you ought to do it well."

Then they became conscious that a smaller and dumpier figure was standing in the darkness by the side of Willie. It was Peggy Quine.

"Are you longing, Peggy?" Willie was saying in a voice of melancholy sympathy.

And Peggy was answering in a doleful tone, "Aw, yes, though--longing mortal."

Becoming conscious that the eyes of her mistress were on her, Peggy stepped out and said, "If you plaze, ma'am, the carriage is waiting this half-hour."

"Then send it away again," said Davy.

"But the boxes is packed, sir----"

"Send it away," repeated Davy.

"No, no," said Nelly; "we must go home to-night."

"To-morrow morning," shouted Davy, with a stamp of his foot and a laugh.

"But I have paid the bill," said Nelly, "and everything is arranged, and we are all ready."

"To-morrow morning," thundered Davy, with another stamp of the foot and a peal of laughter.

And Davy had his way.

THE END.