"Sure, then, Miss Winifred, we might go the night with Barney to bring home some of the sods of peat. Barney will be havin' the cart out, an' we may as well have the drive," Moira said.
"Yes, I think I will go," said Winifred, "after the May prayers at the chapel. I'm going, when tea's over, to pick a great posy for the Blessed Virgin's altar. But it will be moonlight and we can go after."
"To be sure, we can, miss," assented Moira; adding the information that "Barney got a power of fine fish the day, an' he sold it all at Powerscourt, barrin' one big trout that's for yourself, Miss Winifred. An' the gentry over there gave him two shillin's, but he's puttin' them by to take him to Ameriky."
"Every one has a craze for America," said Winifred's clear voice. "Even I am going there some day."
"Musha, then, an' I hope you'll take me with you!" cried Moira, coaxingly; "for what would I be doin' at all, at all, without yourself?"
"We'll see when the time comes," declared Winifred. "I might take you—that depends. But you'd better not say anything about it; for perhaps if people got talking we mightn't go at all."
"I'll be as secret as—as the priest himself in the confessional!" promised Moira. "An' that's secret enough. But I can't help wonderin' what it would be like out there?"
"It's a splendid place they say, with mountains and rivers," began Winifred.
"Sure an' we have enough of them ourselves, with no disrespect to them that tould you," said Moira.
"In America they are different," said Winifred, grandly. "And, then, there are great forests—"