“She’s mighty cute,” said Sweeny.
“And what’s more,” said Peter Walsh, “she’ll stop him if she’s able. For she doesn’t want them out on Inishbawn, no more than we do.”
“Are you sure now that she meant that?” said Sweeny.
“I’m as sure as if she said it, and surer.”
“She’s a fine girl, so she is,” said Patsy the smith.
“Devil the finer you’d see,” said one of the loafers, “if you was to search from this to America.”
This, though a spacious, was a thin compliment.
There are never, even at the height of the transatlantic tourist season, very many girls between Rosnacree and America.
“Anyway,” said Sweeny hopefully, “it could be that the wind will go round to the southeast before morning. The glass didn’t rise any since the thunder.”
“It might,” said Peter Walsh.