This compliment must have been very gratifying to Mary Ellen, but she made no reply to it. She set down the empty bucket on the ground and rubbed her hands slowly on the sides of her skirt Moriarty probably felt that he had done as much as could be expected of him in the way of pretty speeches. He whistled “Kathleen Mavourneen” through once while Mary Ellen wiped her hands dry. She picked up her bucket again and turned to go away.
“Tell me this now,” said Moriarty. “Did ever you have your fortune told?”
“I did not,” she said.
“It’s what I’m good at,” said Moriarty, “is telling fortunes. There was an aunt of mine one time that was terrible skilful at it. It was her taught me.”
“It’s a pity she had no more sense.”
“If you was to sit up on the wall beside me,” said Moriarty, “and if you was to lend me the loan of your hand for one minute——”
“Get out,” said Mary Ellen.
“You’d be surprised, so you would,” said Moriarty, “at the things I’d tell you.”
“I might.”
“You would.”