"All impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy."
Judy the Fancy was one of the most prominent characters about Crowmore. She lived at the Cross, and haunted that well-beaten thoroughfare from early morn till dewy eve. Despite her name, "The Fancy" was certainly no beauty; she had a yellow, wrinkled face, a pair of greedy little black eyes, and features which bore a ludicrous resemblance to a turnip ghost. Although she went bare-footed, she wore good, warm clothes, and a respectable white cap; and no stranger could have guessed at her profession until she struck up her habitual whine of—"Give the poor ould woman the price of a cup of tay, your honour, the price of a cup of tay, and I'll pray for ye; andeed ye might do worse than have the prayers of the poor!"
Sitting basking at her post, she taxed all comers, and taxed them most successfully; for the little world of Crowmore were mortally afraid to draw down the "Fancy's" tongue, and she received propitiatory offerings of sods of turf, and "locks of male" from her own class, and numerous sixpences, and coppers, from well-to-do neighbours.
She was the mother of Andy All Right, and looked to the Castle with confidence for the supply of her wardrobe, and praties, and sweet milk. She would sorely vex the spirits of those who figuratively buttoned up their pockets, by loud, uncomplimentary remarks on their personal appearance, painful allusions to family secrets, and dismal prophetic warnings of their future downfall. Many a stout-hearted man would rather (if he had no small change), go a round of two miles, than run the gauntlet of the "Fancy's" corner.
She had also other means of levying tribute that rarely failed; not begging with gross directness, or angry importunity, as I regret to say was her occasional wont, but merely exclaiming aloud, as if talking to herself,—
"Musha! and it's Mrs. Megaw! and 'tis herself has the finest young family in the whole side of the country; faix, no one denies that, not wan; and signs on it, 'tis the mother they takes afther!"
Or to a victim of the sterner sex (who are equally vulnerable in such matters),—
"And so that's Tim Duffy!"—in a tone of intense surprise—"sure, an' I hardly know him. Troth, and it's a trate to sit here and see the likes of him going by. It's an officer in the army he should be, instead of trailing there, afther a cart of turf!"
These little speeches, had an excellent effect, and generally bore a rich harvest. She had also an unfailing method of raising a spirit of emulation among her benefactors. As for instance, having received, we will say sixpence, from some charitable hand, she would turn it over rather contemptuously in her palm, and exclaim, in a tone more of sorrow than of anger,—