"Good-bye just now, Miss Kit," said I.
Her face fell.
"Oh," said she, "you're not going to leave me, Barry!"
"Till to-night. I am pledged to pay the Dutchman for saving my life by
working for him this day. After that--"
"Oh, go," said she, holding out her hand, "for he deserves all the
thanks in the world for saving you for me."
She blushed as she saw how I lit up at the words, but left her hand in
mine as I raised it to my lips.
"Farewell, my dear Barry," said she. "Heaven bless you, and bring you
safely back!"
All the world then seemed turned to brightness, and I stepped out like a
man who treads on air. But at the door I remembered myself enough to
return and seek Biddy in her kitchen.
"Biddy," said I, "tell me one thing, as you will answer for it at the
last day--which of us two, Tim or I, is the son of Mike Gallagher, and
which is the son of Terence Gorman?"
She turned very white and sank into a chair. But I had no time to
parley, and I urged her to speak.
"As I hope for salvation," said she, and her breath came hard and her
bosom heaved fast, "the one of you that has the mole between his
shoulder-blades is the Gorman's boy."
"It is Tim then," I exclaimed, and hastened to my horse.