“Well, if you’ll believe me, jist about dinner-time, who should come walkin’ up to the house as bold as brass, but my gentleman himself, an’ before I could shut door in’s face if that little bold hussy didn’t call out to en from the window: ‘I’m locked in, Mr. Connor, I’m locked in!’ “‘Locked in, are ye?’ says he; an’ for the minute I was frightened at the looks of en. “If ye’ll believe me, Mrs. Cross, the fellow walks straight into the house, makin’ no more o’ me nor if I wasn’t there. He pushes past I, and marches upstairs and bursts open the door o’ Jenny’s room. “‘Locked in, are ye?’ he says. ‘I’ll soon settle that. Come down, asthore’--E-es, ’twas some such name as that he did call her--‘come down, asthore. I’ve a little word to say to ye, an’ I want this good lady to hear it as well as yerself.’ “‘I’ll call the police,’ I says. ‘I’ll call them in a minute,’ I says.” “I’d a-done that, I’m sure,” cried Mrs. Cross. “I’m sure I would. Housebreakin’ ye know. _Did_ ye call ’em?” she added, as Mrs. Chaffey seemed to hesitate. “Well, no, my dear,” returned that lady. “I did not. I was all shaky an’ trembley like. Besides,” she added, casting up her eyes, “I be always for peace, Mrs. Cross. ‘Peace an’ quietness,’ is my motto. I could no more break the law o’ Christian lovin’ kindness nor--nor anything, Mrs. Cross.” “‘Now, Jenny, alanna,’” says the man, ‘you an’ me was talkin’ yesterday, so I may as well come to the p’int at once. I want a home, an’ you want a home.’ “‘You make a mistake,’ says I, ‘the girl does _not_ want a home. Jenny has got a good home--a better home nor she do deserve,’ I says. “‘A pretty home!’ says he; ‘a prison! Don’t mind her, me darlin’. Just look me in the face, an’ tell me will ye have me?’ “‘I will,’ she says, so bold as brass--the little barefaced, impident wench! I did really blush for her. “‘Then,’ says he, ‘I’ll put up the banns on Sunday, an’ the two of us ’ull be j’ined together before the month’s out.’ “Well! To think of the chap settlin’ everythin’ straight off, an’ she givin’ in wi’out so much as a question! I stood gawkin’ at ’em both, wi’ my tongue quite speechless. Then the chap goes up to Jenny, and says he:-- “‘I’m sorry we can’t walk out by ourselves,’ he says, ‘but we must do wi’out that.’ An’ before my very eyes, Mrs. Cross, he puts his arm round her waist, an’ kisses her. ‘I’ll strive to be a good husband to ye,’ says he, ‘an’ I’ll engage I’ll have the best little wife in the world.’ “Then he turns round to I an’ whips off his hat, jist out o’ pure impidence. “‘Good mornin’ to ye, ma’am,’ he says; ‘I’m afraid its losin’ yer black slave ye’ll be.’” “_Oh!_” interrupted Mrs. Cross, much scandalised. “Such a thing to say.” “E-es, indeed,” responded Mrs. Chaffey, “an’ me as had a-been so good to her. I did tell her so, so soon as I’d got my breath. ‘Me, what has been a mother to ye,’ I did tell her, ‘that ye should go a-backbitin’ o’ I an’ a-sayin’ such things.’