Theriere did, you
know. He was a gentleman."
"An' I'm not," said Billy.
"Oh, I didn't mean THAT," the girl hastened to explain.
"Well, whether youse meant it or not, it's so," said the
mucker. "I ain't no gent--I'm a mucker. I have your word for
it, you know--yeh said so that time on de Halfmoon, an' I
ain't fergot it; but youse was right--I am a mucker. I ain't
never learned how to be anything else. I ain't never wanted to
be anything else until today. Now, I'd like to be a gent; but it's
too late."
"Won't you try?" asked the girl. "For my sake?"
"Go to't," returned the mucker cheerfully; "I'd even wear
side whiskers fer youse."
"Horrors!" exclaimed Barbara Harding. "I couldn't look at
you if you did."
"Well, then, tell me wot youse do want me to do."
Barbara discovered that her task was to be a difficult one if
she were to accomplish it without wounding the man's feelings;
but she determined to strike while the iron was hot and
risk offending him--why she should be interested in the
regeneration of Mr. Billy Byrne it never once occurred to her
to ask herself. She hesitated a moment before speaking.
"One of the first things you must do, Mr. Byrne," she said,
"is to learn to speak correctly.
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