this marning whin i waked i missed minnie carnavan at me side. sitting up and looking about me, i seen minnie seeted at me table, riting a litter. she seen me whin i set up, and she faulded oop her litter and licked the invilip.

“well minnie carnavan” ses i “and what are you up to at this unarthly our?”

“hoosh, darlint!” ses she, caming to me bed, and setting down beside me. “delia” ses she “i’ve dun it.”

“dun what?” ses i and i begin to have misgivings.

“i’ve rote” ses minnie “to the auld gintleman.”

“to mr. wolley” ses i a bit daft.

“no” ses she shaking her hed. “to the lad’s father.”

for a minit me tung faled me. i stared at the crachure in silinse. she got ap from me bed and sarched about for her hat, found it and put it on.

“delia o’malley” ses she “that yung dudley fellow do be fresh as sour milk” ses she. “its been on me conshunse iver sinse i came, mavourneen, to poonish him for his thricks. its desaving the pretty miss claire hes after oop to. trust an auld girl like minnie carnavan to see throo the thricks of a yung spalpeen like that.”

“minnie” ses i meekly, for theres a feer in me hart that maks me week as a kitten, “tell me the truth darlint. be you going to male a litter to the lad’s father?”

“indade and i am” ses minnie bauldly, “and to mak shure” ses she “that the old dude gets it safely, i’ll be me own postman and deliver it in person. goodbye delia mavoarneen, i’ll not be coming back. give me luv to mr. mulvaney.”

befure i cud git me wits thegither again, minnie, the ritched, false crachure was gone. i herd the frunt dure close behind her.