“You’d better come down, Andrew Coffey,” Patrick said.
It was the second time he spoke, and Andrew Coffey decided he would come down. The four men went off, and he was left alone with Patrick. He sat down by the fire and kept it even, and all the while Patrick looked at him.
Poor Andrew Coffey couldn’t understand the situation at all, and he stared at Patrick and at the fire, and thought of the cabin in the wood till he felt quite dazed.
“Ah, you’re burning me!” Patrick said, very short and sharp.
“I beg your pardon,” my grandfather said, and hastened to fix the fire.
He couldn’t get the notion out of his head that something was wrong. Hadn’t everybody, near and far, said that Patrick had fallen overboard?
“Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! you’re burning me!” Patrick exclaimed.
My grandfather was sorry enough, and he vowed he wouldn’t do so again.
“You’d better not,” Patrick grumbled, and he gave him a cock of his eye, and a grin of his teeth that sent a shiver down Andrew Coffey’s back. It certainly was odd that Andrew Coffey should be there in a thick wood that he had never set eyes on before, roasting Patrick Rooney. You can’t wonder that my grandfather thought and thought and forgot the fire.
“Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! I’ll punish you for the way you’re neglecting me!” Patrick Rooney cried.