Although we did not admit the fact, I think there is no doubt that we were both in the enjoyment of a comfortable little nap, when we were disturbed by the return of Jopp—looking extraordinarily hot and mud-stained.
“Well?” we asked in the same breath.
“I am very sorry, ma’am, but the people at the house—it’s a full mile away—mostly talk Irish. I made out that they have no beds—they want what there are themselves; but if you wouldn’t mind settin’ up in the kitchen they make no objection.”
“No, I daresay not!” rejoined my relative, throwing up her chin, “and one hears so much of Irish hospitality! I intend to sleep there, and I shall go over and interview her myself—I suppose it’s a woman?” appealing to Jopp.
“Yes, ma’am, quite a crowd of women—a houseful, I should say. It’s a rough sort of place for ladies; it looked like a kind of wedding party.”
“A party—that settles it! Millie” (to me) “we will start at once—wrap up well. I am afraid we shall have rather a disagreeable walk, but it will be something to spend a night in a real Irish cottage. Jopp will carry our dressing-bags, and Watkin the lamp. No one will touch the car, and anyway, they cannot carry it away, so we will all sleep out.”
Here I must draw a decent veil over our muddy excursion, our climbing of gates, evading of bog-holes, and wading through fields. At last we turned into a deep lane; this led up to a yard, in which stood an enormous manure-heap, several empty turf-carts, and a long, slated house of one story. There were lights in three windows, and my aunt hammered vigorously on the door, which was immediately opened by a tall woman with black hair and high cheek-bones. She stood in a sort of little entrance, from which one could see into a kitchen with a roaring turf fire. It appeared to be full of people.
Aunt Liz, in her high, clear English accent, made her request with civil confidence. A bed for her niece and self, and permission for the men to sit up in the kitchen; she promised to give no trouble, and would pay well.
“I am terribly sorry, me lady, but I can’t take ye in nohow,” declared the woman; “we are shockingly put about—and the house is throng as it is.”
My aunt edged her way further and looked eagerly round the kitchen; there were three or four men smoking, half a dozen women staring, and one very old crone in a large white cap hunched up inside the big chimney shook her stick at us, and gabbled in Irish.