Fancy this woman knowing that she had been talking just once with Ulick Shannon.... Evidently the tongue of this place had already begun to curl around her.
"But this is not Ulick Shannon!" She blushed as she found herself speaking his name.
"No, but it is the photo of his dead father, Henry Shannon."
Mrs. Brennan heaved a great sigh as she said this. She rose from her seat by the machine and moved towards the place where Rebecca was bending over the album. She gazed down at the picture of the dead man with moist eyes.... There was silence between them now for what seemed a long time. Rebecca became alarmed as she thought that she might have overstayed the half hour. At the school the priest or the inspector might have called and found her absent from her post.
She broke in abruptly upon Mrs. Brennan's fit of introspection, and gave a few hurried orders about the blouses.
"Will you be giving me the making of your next new costume?" said Mrs. Brennan.
"Well, I'm sorry—I don't think so. You see I have it being made already in Dublin."
"In Dublin itself? Well, well! that'll be the great style."
She felt it as an affront to her reputation that any one who lived in the neighborhood should patronize other places for their needs. She took such doings as exhibitions of spite and malice against her. And, somehow, she could not get rid of the idea now, although this girl evidently knew nothing of her history.