"
Having uttered these words, he passed on, and Nanny in a minute or two
afterwards returned the letter to her father, who with his own hands put
it into the post-office.
"Now," said she to her father, "the people is scatterin' themselves
homewards; and the streets is gettin' clear--but listen--that letter
is directed to Bryan M'Mahon; will you keep about the post-office here;
Bryan's in town, an' it's likely when the danger's over that he may be
passin'. Now you know that if he does, the people in the shop where the
post-office is kep' will see him, an' maybe he'll get the letter to-day,
or I'll tell you what, watch Hycy; take my word for it, he has some
scheme afoot."
"Hycy's no favorite wid you, Nanny."
"Why you know he's not, an' indeed I don't know why he's one wid you."
"Throth an' he is, many a shillin' an' sixpence he throws me,--always
does indeed wherever he meets me."
"No matter, maybe the day will soon come when you'll change your opinion
of him, that's all I say, except to keep your eye on him; and I'll tell
you why I bid you, some day soon."
"Well, achora, maybe I may change my opinion of him; but at present I
say he is my favorite, an' will be so, till I know worse about him."
Nanny, having bade him good-bye, and repeated her wish that the old man
would watch the post-office for some time, proceeded up the street
in the direction of the grocer's, to whom she had been dispatched for
groceries.
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