"Eh!" he exclaimed with heavy joviality, "where has the man got to, the man with the big stick? If he's shy let him come in, and if he's angry let him come in too."
Eileen Ni Cooley was sitting close beside Art. She had let her shawl droop from her head, and her hair was showing through the dusk like a torch.
"The man has gone away, Padraig," said she; "he got tired of the company, and he's gone travelling towards his own friends."
Patsy regarded her with shining eyes. The must of the house was no longer in his nostrils; the silence lifted from him at a bound.
"You are telling me a fine story, Eileen," said he, "tell me this too, did the man go away of his own will, or did you send him away?"
"It was a bit of both, Padraig."
"The time to get good news," said Patsy, "is when it's raining, and that is good news, and it's raining now."
"News need not be good or bad, but only news," she replied, "and we will leave it at that."
Caeltia spoke to her:
"Do you have a good life going by yourself about the country and making acquaintances where you please?"