“It’s lost for the want of work she is, this minute,” said Heffernan; “fresh enough she is, this minute, to dance a cat off the high-road! and as well, there’s a bit of ploughing that the mare could be at, here at home....”
“I can walk; shanks’ mare will do me full as well as either ass or mare!” said Marg, that had not one ounce of lazy flesh upon her bones.
So when the fair-day came round, she was up and off, bright and early, before the stars were out of the skies, the cattle having been sent on ahead with Dan Grennan. Marg had no delay in selling the stock, for fine beasts they were; and to a dealer that she and Mickey were well acquainted with, so that Marg felt no great anxiety about the business.
When they had the bargain closed, “Come along in here, Mrs. Heffernan, mam,” said this dealer, “to Mrs. Melia’s, a decent woman she is and keeps a decent house as you may wish to find. And I can be paying you the money inside there, in the parlour, away out of the noise and crowds in the street,” said he, “let alone the mud and gutther, with the heavy rain that’s falling....”
“Very soft entirely it has turned, since the turn of the day,” said Marg; “the cloak on me is heavy with the soaking wet.”
“You’re saying only the truth, mam,” said the dealer; “and all the more reason for you to be getting into shelter, where we can be having a cup of tea, or whatever other refreshment you like to put a name upon.”
“I thank you kindly,” said Marg; “indeed, I’ll be glad of something warm to drink....”
Like many another woman, Marg had neglected herself in the matter of food, and had never tasted bite nor sup since leaving home that morning. And now that she had the selling of the cattle off her mind, she remembered that, and began to feel very weak-like in herself.
So she raised no demur to going into Melia’s, and in particular because she had observed Ratigan a piece off from her down the fair-green. He was pretending not to know her. Marg was no hand at that work, and she was glad not to have to meet up with him, before all the neighbours. But Ratigan was keeping a close eye on her, all through. Not a turn of Marg that day but he watched. And when he saw herself and the dealer going into Melia’s, my dear, what did he do, only whipped round like shot, in and out among the crowds of people and beasts of all kinds, and up with him into the hay-loft. The big foot was no hindrance to him, he would explain, only betimes. And anyway, every one was too much taken up with their own concerns to mind much what the American was about that evening.
The loft wasn’t to say very well built. There was a chink that he had often found very convenient, for seeing what went on in Mrs. Melia’s parlour. He put his eye to it now.