VI.
The next morning I asked the Chief Warder if he had any labour gang at which I could be employed, for I dreaded a continuance of the thoughts that had been with me through the night.
“I can put you moulding my potatoes,” he said, with the air of a man who spoke of something so ridiculous that it disposed of itself.
“Very well,” I said.
“Can you mould potatoes?” he said.
He seemed to be diffident now when his humour took actual shape.
“I can try,” I said. “I was eight hours setting them the day before you took me.”
So a Gaelic League organiser, an Excise man,