with a start.

"Margaret Callaghan, sure."

"_Our_ Margaret? Do you mean to say that OUR Margaret has married
that--that good-for-nothing, inebriated wretch!"

"It's a civil tongue the owld lady has, any way," remarked Mr. O'Rourke,
critically, from the scraper.

Mrs. Bilkins's voice during the latter part of the colloquy had been
pitched in a high key; it rung through the hall and penetrated to the
kitchen, where Margaret was thoughtfully wiping the breakfast things.
She paused with a half-dried saucer in her hand, and listened. In a
moment more she stood, with bloodless face and limp figure, leaning
against the banister, behind Mrs. Bilkins.

"Is it there ye are, me jew'l!" cried Mr. O'Rourke, discovering her.

Mrs. Bilkins wheeled upon Margaret.

"Margaret Callaghan, _is_ that thing your husband?"

"Ye-yes, mum," faltered Mrs. O'Rourke, with a woful lack of spirit.

"Then take it away!" cried Mrs. Bilkins.

Margaret, with a slight flush on either cheek, glided past Mrs. Bilkins,
and the heavy oak door closed with a bang, as the gates of Paradise must
have closed of old upon Adam and Eve.

"Come!" said Margaret, taking Mr. O'Rourke by the hand; and the two
wandered forth upon their wedding journey down Anchor Street, with all
the world before them where to choose. They chose to halt at the small,
shabby tenement-house by the river, through the doorway of which
the bridal pair disappeared with a reeling, eccentric gait; for
Mr. O'Rourke's intoxication seemed to have run down his elbow, and
communicated itself to Margaret. O Hymen! who burnest precious gums and
scented woods in thy torch at the melting of aristocratic hearts, with
what a pitiful penny-dip thou hast lighted up our little back-street
romance!

II.

It had been no part of Margaret's plan to acknowledge the marriage so
soon. Though on pleasure bent, she had a frugal mind. She had invested
in a husband with a view of laying him away for a rainy day--that is to
say, for such time as her master and mistress should cease to need her
services; for she had promised on more than one occasion to remain with
the old people as long as they lived. Indeed, if Mr. O'Rourke had come
to her and said in so many words, "The day you marry me you must leave
the Bilkins family," there is very little doubt but Margaret would
have let that young sea-monster slip back unmated, so far as she was
concerned, into his native element. The contingency never enter