“What hev ye done wid her?” asked one. “Shure, she’s not bin tuk away?”
“No; she’s in ther’, in my room. An’—an’ she’s mine.”
For to Dil there seemed something sacred about Bess, and she kept guard rigorously. It was not simply a dead body to gloat over. They could go up-stairs and look at Mrs. Bolan.
It was nine o’clock when her mother came home laden with budgets, and Dan following in a vaguely frightened manner. He had been hanging about Mrs. MacBride’s, waiting for her. She had gone in and taken her “sup o’ gin,” and heard the news, also the complaints.
“Whiniver did it happen, Dil?” throwing down her budgets. “She’s been no good to hersilf nor no wan else this long while. An’ she cudden’t iver git well, an’ was a sight o’ trouble. But I’m clear beat. Week after week I thought she’d be sure to go, but when you’re lookin’, the thing niver comes. An’ it’s took me so suddent like, that I had no breath left at all. Was it true—did ye find her dead, an’ faint clear away?”
She looked rather admiringly at Dil.
“Yes—she were cold,” said Dil briefly. “An’ then I don’t know what happened.”
“Ye pore colleen! Ye’ll be better widout her, an’ ye’ll be gittin well an’ strong agin. It’s bin a hard thing, an’ yer divil of a father shud a had his own back broke. But he’s fast enough, and I hope they’ll kape him there. Any word of Owny?”
“No.” Oh, what would Owny say—an’ Patsey.
“Who kem an’ streeked her? Let’s see.”