"It isn't for Miss Pillbody at all," said Bog, fearful lest the strange
man should see it refused, "but for your own pretty self."
Bridget smiled, for she was conscious that the compliment was deserved.
She relaxed her hand on the door. "Fat is it?" said she.
"Hush!" said Bog, in a whisper; "a circular about the rights of
servants, issued by the 'Servants' Mootual Protecting Society.'" (Bog
thought of the name on the spur of the moment.) "Please take it--quick."
Bridget snatched the circular out of his hand, and was about to look at
it, bottom side up, for she had not yet attained to the mystery of
reading, when the musical voice of Miss Pillbody was heard at the back
of the entry. "Bridget--what is wanted, Bridget?"
"Nothing ma'am, but one of these succular men. Bad luck to him! Here,
now, take it."
She made a feint of handing back the circular to Bog, but concealed it,
with the other hand, in her capacious bosom.
"Heaven bless ye!" said she, in a low voice, and then slammed the door
in his face.
Bog came down the door steps quickly, and saw the strange man make a bow
and a gesture of gratitude at him, and then disappear suddenly round the
corner.
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