“And it’s near seven, it is,” Pat said. “You’re a fine fellow to have a watch. It’s a turnip you might as well have in your pocket, for it’s long past eight, it is.” The pride of the O’Moors and of the O’Doughertys was taken out of me entirely quite by that rascal, for I felt it rush from the soles of my feet into my head, but I wouldn’t get into a passion, for him to see that I was in the wrong, so I said, “And if you know the time so well, why do you ask me?”
Pat only burst into a hoarse laugh, and ran out of the cabin to tell every one, he could show his ugly face to. I went to bed to drown my troubles, but it was one long night-mare I had; first the watch and then the fiddle dancing on my chest, grinning at me all the while, with Pat Molloy looking on.
My first thought on waking in the morning was my watch, and looking up to her, for I had hung her on a nail, as I had been told, I said, “Good morning to you, how are you this morning, my dear?” for I thought it best to be civil to her, but no answer did she make me. I spoke to her again, and as she was still silent I took her down from the nail and held her to my ear.
“Och, it’s dead she is,” I cried, as she still gave no signs of life, and I rushed across to Tim’s. I knocked at his window, shouting, “Are you awake?” “No,” he said; “why should I be awake at this time o’morning?”
“Then,” said I, “you must listen to me in your sleep, for it’s dead she is, and what will I do at all?” “I hope she had the benefit of the Clergy,” Tim cried, starting up and coming to the window. “It’s not that I mean, it’s not my mother at all, it’s the watch that’s dead,” I explained.
“Leave me in peace then,” he said, going back to his bed; but as I would not leave him in peace, but kept crying out, “What will I do?” he growled, “Wind her up, you fool; she’s not dead at all; but give her here, and the key, or it’s ruin her you will.”
So I gave him the watch and the barn-door key, which I happened to have in my pocket. It was well for me that I turned my head on one side, as I thought I heard some one coming, for just then the key came whizzing past my ear.
“I wish it had broken your lubberly head,” Tim cried, in the biggest rage I ever saw him. “It’s the little key I want; the one with the bit of red tape I gave you yesterday.”
I fortunately found the funny little thing in my pocket, but it was not a bit like a key. As soon as I gave it him he twisted and twirled it about in her, till I heard her cry, and then he said—
“There, take her away, for she is all right again, and mind you don’t let me see you for a whole week, or surely it’s murder you I will.”