"What are you doin'?"
"I'm clanin' meself."
"Well, hurry up clanin' yourself and put the kittle on the fire, for there's a young lady wants some tay."
"Oh, glory be to God! Moriarty!"
"Well?"
"Shout for Biddy; she's beyant there in the cowhouse. Tell her the kittle's on, and to stir the fire and make the tay. I'll be wid you in wan minit."
Miss Grimshaw took her seat and waited, listening to the stumping noise upstairs that told of speed, and wondering what Mrs. Sheelan would be like when she was cleaned.
Almost immediately Biddy, fresh from the cowhouse, a girl with apple-red cheeks, entered the room, whisked the stuffed dog on to a side table, dumped down a dirty table-cloth which she had brought in rolled up under her arm, dragged out the drawer of a cupboard, and from the drawer knives, forks, spoons, a salt-cellar, and a pepper caster of pewter.
"You needn't lay all those things for me," said the traveller. "I only want tea."