Dil’s face was in such a maze of surprise that she looked at Owen without being able to utter a word for some moments, while he laughed heartily.
“How could ye, Owny?”
“How cud I?” Owen laughed again. “Well,” with a swagger, “it’s all in knowin’ how to dale with the female sect. Was she thunderin’ mad last night? Did she go fer me?”
“But about Mrs. MacBride? How could ye know what happened?”
“Why, ye see I was passin’ jes’ after the shindy. That Mrs. Whalen who made the row whin she beat ye so, ye know, was harang’in’; an’ then I heard there’d been a great row, an’ mammy’d come home mad as a hornet. So, sez I, I’ll wait until she’s asleep before I trust myself. An’ its jes’ havin’ yer wits about ye. She was too drunk to remember what she did. Did she break yer head agen? If she did I’ll go an’ complain of her. Whin yer tired a-havin’ her round, we’ll git her sent up to th’ Island. An’ now get me some grub.”
“She only struck me wunst. But she burnt up something,” and Dil began to sob. “But, Owny, ye were not in, an’ it was a—a—”
“Git off de stump wid yer high notions! I’d save me head wid any kind o’ lie. You gals don’t know nothin’ but to run right agin de stun wall. Ye see, it’s a bit o’ circumwention, an’ ye jes’ use yer brains a bit to save yer skull er yer back. But dat old gin-mill ain’t goin’ to boss me much longer. Ye’ll see, an’ be moighty s’prised. An’ here’s a nickel, Dil.”
Owen ate his breakfast, and then taking out a cigarette, lighted it, and swaggered off.
Dil woke Dan, and gave him his meal, as two babies were asleep and the other sat on the floor munching a crust.
Bess slept late. Poor Dil went about her work in a strange maze. Owny slipped out of a great many things, and told lies about them, and this morning he had been very “cute.” Dil sighed. She could not have done it. She would have blundered and betrayed herself. And yet she had told a lie about the book. It had not saved the book, but perhaps it had saved her and Bess from something more terrible.