dded, pulling out a neat leather case from which he
drew a cigar!

"Go away, Dan, directly," said I with some asperity, for I was nettled
at the impudence of the man in my presence, and not a little alarmed
lest the angry Haco should kick him down-stairs.

Dan at once obeyed, bowing respectfully to me, and, as I observed,
winking to Susan as he turned away. He descended the stair in silence,
but we heard him open the door of the public room and address the
Russians, who were assembled there, warming themselves at the fire, and
enjoying their pipes.

"Hooray! my hearties," said Dan; "got yer broken legs rewived I hope,
and yer spurrits bandaged up? Hey,--och! I forgot ye can swaller
nothin' but Toorko--cum, squaki lorum ho po, doddie jairum frango
whiskie looro--whack?--eh! Arrah! ye don't need to answer for fear the
effort opens up yer wounds afresh. Farewell, lads, or may be it's
wishin' ye fair-wind would be more nat'ral."

So saying he slammed the door, and we heard him switching his boots as
he passed along the street under the windows, whistling the air of "The
girls we left behind us," followed, before he was quite out of earshot,
by "Oh my love is like the red red rose, that's newly sprung in June."

Immediately after Dan's departure I left Haco and Susan together, and
they held the following conversation when left alone. I am enabled to
report it faithfully, reader, because Susan told it word for word to her
mistress, who has a very reprehensible habit of listening to the gossip
of her maid. Of course Mrs B told it to me, because she tells
everything to me, sometimes a good deal more than I care to hear. This
I think a very reprehensible habit also. I am bound to listen, because
when my strong-minded wife begins to talk I might as well try to stop a
runaway locomotive as attempt to silence her. And so it comes about
that I am now making the thing public!

"Susan," said Haco, earnestly looking at his daughter's downcast face,
on which the tell tale blood was mantling. "Are you fond o' that--that
feller?"

"Ye-yes, father," replied Susan, with some hesitation.

"Humph! an' is he fond o' _you_?"

"Oh, isn't he, just," said Susan, with a little confused laugh.

"Susan," continued Haco, with increasing earnestness, "Are ye sure he's
worthy of you?"

"Yes, father, I'm _quite_ sure of that."

"Well then, Susan, you're a sensible girl, and you ought to know best;
but I don't feel easy about ye,