Mary Holloran laughed a little and then wiped her face with the corner of her apron, and sighed so as to restore a fitting tone to the conversation.
“The neighbours was all gethered in it last night,” she observed; “they had the two rooms full in it, an’ a half gallon of whisky, and porther and all sorts. Indeed, her sisther’s two daughthers showed her every respect; there wasn’t one comin’ in it, big nor little, but they’d fill them out a glass o’ punch before they’d sit down. God bless ye, Bid Sal,” she went on, as if made thirsty by the recollection; “have ye a sup o’ tay in that taypot that’s on th’ oven? I’d drink the lough this minute!”
“Is it the like o’ that ye’d give the woman?” vociferated Norry in furious hospitality, as Bid Sal moved forward to obey this behest; “make down the fire and bile a dhrop of wather the way she’ll get what’ll not give her a sick shtummuck. Sure, what’s in that pot’s the lavin’s afther Miss Charlotte’s breakfast for Billy Grainy when he comes with the post; and good enough for the likes of him.”
“There was a good manny axing for ye last night,” began Mary Holloran again, while Bid Sal broke up a box with the kitchen cleaver, and revived the fire with its fragments and a little paraffin oil. “And you a near cousin o’ the corp’. Was it herself wouldn’t let you in it?”
“Whether she’d let me in it or no I have plenty to do besides running to every corp’-house in the counthry,” returned Norry with an acerbity that showed how accurate Mary Holloran’s surmise had been; “if thim that was in the wake seen me last night goin’ out to the cow that’s afther calvin’ with the quilt off me bed to put over her, maybe they’d have less chat about me.”
Mary Holloran was of a pacific turn, and she tried another topic. “Did ye hear that John Kenealy was afther summonsing me mother before the Binch?” she said, unfastening her heavy blue cloak and putting her feet up on the fender of the range.
“Ah, God help ye, how would I hear annything?” grumbled Norry; “it’d be as good for me to be in heaven as to be here, with ne’er a one but Nance the Fool comin’ next or nigh me.”
“Oh, indeed, that’s the thruth,” said Mary Holloran with polite but transient sympathy. “Well, whether or no, he summonsed her, and all the raison he had for putting that scandal on her, was thim few little hins and ducks she have, that he seen different times on his land, themselves and an owld goat thravellin’ the fields, and not a bit nor a bite before them in it that they’d stoop their heads to, only what sign of grass was left afther the winther, and faith! that’s little. ’Twas last Tuesday, Lady-Day an’ all, me mother was bringin’ in a goaleen o’ turf, an’ he came thundherin’ round the house, and every big rock of English he had he called it to her, and every soort of liar and blagyard—oh, indeed, his conduck was not fit to tell to a jackass—an’ he summonsed her secondly afther that. Ye’d think me mother’d lose her life when she seen the summons, an’ away she legged it into Rosemount to meself, the way I’d spake to the masther to lane heavy on Kenealy the day he’d bring her into coort. ‘An’ indeed,’ says I to the masther, ‘is it to bring me mother into coort!’ says I; ‘sure she’s hardly able to lave the bed,’ says I, ‘an owld little woman that’s not four stone weight! She’s not that size,’ says I—” Mary Holloran measured accurately off the upper joints of her first two fingers—“‘Sure ye’d blow her off yer hand! And Kenealy sayin’ she pelted the pavement afther him, and left a backward sthroke on him with the shovel!’ says I. But in any case the masther gave no satisfaction to Kenealy, and he arbithrated him the way he wouldn’t be let bring me mother into coort, an’ two shillin’ she paid for threspass, and thank God she’s able to do that same, for as desolate as Kenealy thinks her.”
“Lambert’s a fine arbithrator,” said Norry, dispassionately. “Here, Bid Sal, run away out to the lardher and lave this within in it,” handing over the singed hen, “and afther that, go on out and cut cabbages for the pigs. Divil’s cure to ye! Can’t ye make haste! I suppose ye think it’s to be standin’ lookin’ at the people that ye get four pounds a year an’ yer dite! Thim gerrls is able to put annyone that’d be with them into a decay,” she ended, as Bid Sal reluctantly withdrew, “and there’s not a word ye’ll say but they’ll gallop through the counthry tellin’ it.” Then, dropping into a conversational tone, “Nance was sayin’ Lambert was gone to Dublin agin, but what signifies what the likes of her’d say; it couldn’t be he’d be goin’ in it agin and he not home a week from it.”
Mary Holloran pursed up her mouth portentously.