When the Notary stood on the steps of the saddler's shop, and with fine rhetoric proposed a vote of admiration for the girl, the cheering could be heard inside the post-office, and it brought Mrs.
Flynn outside.
"'Tis for her, the darlin'-- for Ma'm'selle Rosalie--they're splittin' their throats!" she said to Charley as he was making his way from the sick man's room to the street door.

"Did ye iver see such an eye an' hand?
That avil baste that's killed two Injins already--an' all the men o' the place sneakin' behind dures, an' she walkin' up cool as leaf in mornin' dew, an' quietin' the divil's own! Did ye iver see annything like it, sir--you that's seen so much ?" "Madame, it is not touch of hand alone, or voice alone," answered Charley.
"Shure, 'tis somethin' kin in baste an' maid, you're manin' thin ?" "Quite so, Madame." "Simple like, an' understandin' what Noah understood in that ark av his--for talk to the bastes he must have, explainin' what was for thim to do." "Like that, Madame." "Thrue for you, sir, 'tis as you say.

There's language more than tongue of man can shpake.

But listen, thin, to me"-- her voice got lower--"for 'tis not the furst time, a thing like that, the lady she is--granddaughter of a Seigneur, and descinded from nobility in France! 'Tis not the furst time to be doin' brave things.

Just a shlip of a girl she was, three years ago, afther her mother died, an' she was back from convint.