“Sure, sor, the darlin’ put her pretty little lips close to my ear. ‘Och, darlin’, and loight of my ois,’ I says. ‘Sure, it’s so dark in the wood here that ye’ve made a mistake. That’s me ear, darlin’, and not me mouth. Let me show ye’—”
“‘No, Dinny,’ she says, ‘I’m like being another man’s wife now, and I can foind me way to yer lips whether it’s dark or light when it’s proper and dacent to do so, and we’ve been to church.’”
“Dinny, you’ll drive me mad!” cried Humphrey, impatiently.
“An’ is it dhrive ye mad, when I’m thrying to set ye right? Then I’d better not tell ye, sor.”
“Yes, yes! For goodness’ sake, man, go on.”
“Ah, well, thin, an’ I will! She jist puts her lips to my ear and she says, ‘Dinny, if ye lay a thrain from the powdher-magazine’—think of that now, the darlin’!—‘lay a thrain,’ she says, Dinny, ‘and put a slow-match, same as ye have riddy for firing the big guns, and then be sure,’ she says, ‘and get out of the way’—as if I’d want to shtay, sor, and be sent to hiven in a hurry—‘thin,’ she says, ‘the whole place will be blown up, and iverybody will be running to see what’s the matther and put out the fire, and they’ll be so busy wid that, they’ll forget all about the prishner, and we can go down to the say and get away.’”
“Yes,” said Humphrey, thoughtfully. “Is there much powder stored there!”
“Yis, sor, a dale. Ivery time a ship’s been tuk all the powdher has been brought ashore and put there. It’s a foin plan, sor, and all made out of the darlin’s own head.”
“Yes, Dinny, we ought to get away then.”
“Sure, an’ we will, sor. I’ll have a boat wid plenty of wather and sun-dhried mate in her, and some fruit and fishing-lines. We shall do; but the plan isn’t perfect yet.”