'“She must be out,” said Bob to himself. “She 's gone to pass the day somewhere. I hope she doesn't know any of these impudent vagabonds up at the barracks. Maybe, after all, it's sick she is.”
'While he was ruminating this way, who should he see turn the corner but the widow herself. There she was, coming along in deep weeds, with her maid after her—a fine slashing-looking figure, rather taller than her though, and lustier every way; but it was the first time he saw her in the streets. As she got near to her door, Bob stood up to make a polite bow. Just as he did so, the widow slipped her foot, and fell down on the flags with a loud scream. The maid ran up, endeavouring to assist her, but she couldn't stir; and as she placed her hand on her leg, Bob perceived at once she had sprained her ankle. Without waiting for his hat, he sprang downstairs, and rushed across the street. '“Mrs. Moriarty, my angel!” said Bob, putting his arm round her waist. “Won't you permit me to assist you?”
'She clasped his hand with fervent gratitude, while the maid, putting her hand into her reticule, seemed fumbling for a handkerchief.
'“I am a stranger to you, ma'am,” said Bob; “but if Major Mahon, of the Roscommon——”
'“The very man we want!” said the maid, pulling a writ out of the reticule; for a devil a thing else they were but two bailiffs from Ennis.
'“The very man we want!” said the bailiffs.
'“I am caught!” said Bob.
'“The devil a doubt of it!”
'At the same moment the window opened overhead, and the beautiful widow looked out to see what was the matter.
'“Good-evening to you, ma'am,” says Bob; “and I 'd like to pay my respects if I wasn't particularly engaged to these ladies here.” And with that he gave an arm to each of them and led them down the street, as if it was his mother and sister.'