The gong rattled; the door slammed; and a girl, flushed and breathless, darted through the store and into the kitchen.
“Aunt Ellen,” cried she, “give me the candles we had from last Candlemas Day; an’ I want the ivory crucifix, too, for they’ve sent for Father Dawson.”
Ellen began a hurried rummaging for the articles named; the girl caught sight of Mrs. McGonagle and grasped her by the arm.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, “is it you, Mrs. McGonagle? I’m glad you’re here; I was just a-goin’ to run around to your house.”
“For why?”
“Here!” cried Ellen pushing a parcel into the girl’s hand. “Here’s what yez want; away wid ye, now, an’ don’t be stan’in’.”
“You’ll hurry home, won’t you, Mrs. McGonagle,” the girl was now at the door, her hand on the latch, “an’ tell Larry Murphy his gran’father wants to see him before he dies.”
And with that the side door closed behind her and she went by the window like a flash.
“Be the powers av Moll Kelly!” exclaimed O’Hara, his broad face blank with wonder, “but that bates the Owld Nick.”
He stood staring at his sisters, who had their withered hands in the air in gestures of amazement. Mrs. McGonagle’s face shone with glee and she cackled rapturously.