Swiftly the news spread, and by half-past twelve at dinnertime all the workers in the fields about had left their haymaking, for it was harvest-time once more, to gather at this central spot and discuss the situation.
At first everybody was incredulous: such an event was almost unheard of in a community where chastity was a tradition, and insufficient nutriment kept the blood thin and the passions cold. But soon the testimony of a neighbor who had been called in put the question of fact beyond doubt.
'What did I tell ye about Andy Sweeny's dahter?' said old Patsey, taking credit for his hall-prophecy in the fuller light of after events.
'Ay, ay, deed so,' murmured the group in chorus.
Then curiosity centred itself on the point of who was the father of the child.
'It cudn't be Terry Gallagher, now,' said Mrs. Mac judicially, 'troth I'll be boun' he knew nahthin' about it, the crathur.'
'Ah, him is it?' said Owen contemptuously, 'he's too great a fule.'
'He's had a lucky escape anyways,' continued Mrs. Mac meditatively, 'I wunner now why she didn't marry him when she had the chanst, an' no wan wud ha' been a hate the wiser. Oul' Peggy'll be quare an' mad that she stopped the weddin'.'
'I cud make a boul' guess then,' broke in Hannah, who had been waiting for an opening. 'I'll houl' ye I know who owns it, an' more shame for her to lave her own wans for them as doesn't want her now that she's in trouble. I'm thinkin' it's some of the quality has a finger in it.'
'Betther kape a still tongue in yer head about the quality,' interrupted the blacksmith hastily, 'laste said's soonest mended.'