“Come in,” said Mrs. Finnegan, “come in the whole of yez. It’s a terrible day, sergeant, and I wonder at you bringing the doctor out in the weather that does be it in. Michael”—she turned to her husband who stood behind her—“let Patsy Doolan be putting the mare into the shed, and let you be helping him. Come in now, doctor, and take an air of the fire. I’ll wet a cup of tea for you, so I will.”
Dr. Lovaway passed through a low door into the cottage. His eyes gradually became accustomed to the gloom inside and to the turf smoke which filled the room. In a corner, seated on a low stool, he saw a young man crouching over the fire.
“That’s him,” said Mrs. Finnegan. “That’s the poor boy, doctor. The sergeant will have been telling you about him.”
The boy rose from his stool at the sound of her voice.
“Speak to the gentleman now,” said Mrs. Finnegan. “Speak to the doctor, Jimmy alannah, and tell him the way you are.”
“Your honour’s welcome,” said Jimmy, in a thin, cracked voice. “Your honour’s welcome surely, though I don’t mind that ever I set eyes on you before.”
“Whisht now, Jimmy,” said the sergeant. “It’s the doctor that’s come to see you, and it’s for your own good he’s come.”
“I know that,” said Jimmy, “and I know he’ll be wanting to have me put away. Well, what must be, must be, if it’s the will of God, and if it’s before me it may as well be now as any other time.”
“You see the way he is,” said the sergeant.
“And I have the papers here already to be signed.”