“I am,” faltered Anty.
“Then I have nothing further to do than to hand you this, Mrs Kelly”—and he offered the notice to the widow, but she refused to touch it, and he consequently put it down on the table. “But it is my duty to tell you, Miss Lynch, that the gentry of this counthry, before whom you will have to appear, will express very great indignation at your conduct in persevering in placing poor people like the Kellys in so dreadful a predicament, by your wilful and disgraceful obstinacy.”
Poor Anty burst into tears. She had been for some time past trying to restrain herself, but Daly’s last speech, and the horrible idea of the gentry of the country browbeating and frowning at her, completely upset her, and she hid her face on the arm of the sofa, and sobbed aloud.
“Poor people like the Kellys!” shouted the widow, now for the first time really angry with Daly—“not so poor, Mr Daly, as to do dirthy work for anyone. I wish I could say as much this day for your mother’s son! Poor people, indeed! I suppose, now, you wouldn’t call Barry Lynch one of your poor people; but in my mind he’s the poorest crature living this day in county Galway. Av’ you’ve done now, Mr Daly, you’ve my lave to be walking; and the less you let the poor Kellys see of you, from this time out, the betther.”
When Anty’s sobs commenced, Martin had gone over to her to comfort her, “Ah, Anty, dear,” he whispered to her, “shure you’d not be minding what such a fellow as he’d be saying to you?—shure he’s jist paid for all this—he’s only sent here by Barry to thry and frighten you,”—but it was of no avail: Daly had succeeded at any rate in making her miserable, and it was past the power of Martin’s eloquence to undo what the attorney had done.
“Well, Mr Daly,” he said, turning round sharply, “I suppose you have done here now, and the sooner you turn your back on this place the betther—An’ you may take this along with you. Av’ you think you’ve frightened my mother or me, you’re very much mistaken.”
“Yes,” said Daly, “I have done now, and I am sorry my business has been so unpleasant. Your mother, Martin, had betther not disregard that notice. Good morning, Miss Lynch: good morning, Mrs Kelly; good morning, Martin;” and Daly took up his hat, and left the room.
“Good morning to you, Mr Daly,” said Martin: “as I’ve said before, I’m sorry to see you’ve taken to this line of business.”
As soon as the attorney was gone, both Martin and his mother attempted to console and re-assure poor Anty, but they did not find the task an easy one. “Oh, Mrs Kelly,” she said, as soon as she was able to say anything, “I’m sorry I iver come here, I am: I’m sorry I iver set my foot in the house!”
“Don’t say so, Anty, dear,” said the widow. “What’d you be sorry for—an’t it the best place for you?”