This was said in an injured tone, as if the heart under the bed-clothes were softer than the voice.
'I didn't mean to say you were angry, only I thought—'
'You thought what?'
'Well, my dear, I have only just been across to the barn.' This was uttered timidly and pleadingly, and as if our good housewife knew she had been doing wrong.
Suddenly, a large red face started up from amongst the bed-clothes, ornamented with a peculiarly-shaped white cap and tassel.
'Now you haven't been after them Irishers again?' exclaimed the owner of the red face. 'The idle vagabonds! I vow to goodness that all our money, and food and clothing, too, I believe, go to feed a set of good-for-nothing, ragged rascals.'
'Hush, Davy! Remember they are God's creatures, and this is Sunday.'
'I don't know that. And if it's Sunday, why mayn't I sleep in peace?'
'Indeed, I am very sorry. But that poor girl I told you of is so ill!'
'Hang the poor girl! Then send her to the workhouse, and they'll give her a lift home.'