, "the young rascal,"
added Plunkett, with a voice broken with paternal pride and humorous
objurgation, had twice thrown his doting parent to the ground. But it
was of his daughter he chiefly spoke. Perhaps emboldened by the
evident interest which masculine Monte Flat held in feminine beauty, he
expatiated at some length on her various charms and accomplishments, and
finally produced her photograph,--that of a very pretty girl,--to their
infinite peril. But his account of his first meeting with her was so
peculiar, that I must fain give it after his own methods, which were,
perhaps, some shades less precise and elegant than his written style.

"You see, boys, it's always been my opinion that a man oughter be able
to tell his own flesh and blood by instinct. It's ten years since I'd
seen my Melindy; and she was then only seven, and about so high. So,
when I went to New York, what did I do? Did I go straight to my house,
and ask for my wife and daughter, like other folks? No, sir! I rigged
myself up as a peddler, as a peddler, sir; and I rung the bell. When the
servant came to the door, I wanted--don't you see?--to show the ladies
some trinkets. Then there was a voice over the banister says, 'Don't
want any thing: send him away.'--'Some nice laces, ma'am, smuggled,'
I says, looking up. 'Get out, you wretch!' says she. I knew the voice,
boys: it was my wife, sure as a gun. Thar wasn't any instinct thar.
'Maybe the young ladies want somethin',' I said. 'Did you hear me?' says
she; and with that she jumps forward, and I left. It's ten years, boys,
since I've seen the old woman; but somehow, when she fetched that leap,
I naterally left."

He had been standing beside the bar--his usual attitude--when he made
this speech; but at this point he half faced his auditors with a look
that was very effective. Indeed, a few who had exhibited some signs
of scepticism and lack of interest, at once assumed an appearance of
intense gratification and curiosity as he went on,--

"Well, by hangin round there for a day or two, I found out at last it
was to be Melindy's birthday next week, and that she was goin' to have
a big party. I tell ye what, boys, it weren't no slouch of a reception.
The whole house was bloomin' with flowers, and blazin' with lights; and
there was no end of servants and plate and refreshments and fixin's"--

"Uncle Joe."

"Well?"

"Where did they get the money?"

Plunkett faced his interlocutor with a severe glan