“A cousin of mine,” he said to old Tom Tool one night, “is come from Ameriky. A rich person.”
He lay in the bed next him, but Tom Tool didn’t answer so he went on again: “In a ship,” he said.
“I hear you,” answered Tom Tool.
“I see his mother with her bosom open once, and it stuffed with diamonds, bags full.”
Tom Tool kept quiet.
“If,” said the Man from Kilsheelan, “if I’d the trusty comrade I’d make a break from this and go seek him.”
“Was he asking you to do that?”
“How could he an’ all and he in a ship?”
“Was he writing fine letters to you then?”
“How could he, under the Lord? Would he give them to a savage bird or a herring to bring to me so?”