“Sure, what’s that, only a flea-bite!” says Art.
“Ah, but isn’t there four years owing? and how is that going to be ped? unless we can get to pacify him someways. And we behindhand at the Shop ... and do you mind how the young turkeys died ‘on’ us last year? and that has left us very short ever since. And now the praties isn’t looking any too well....”
“In spite of you telling me to mind me eye, and we cutting the seed!” says Art; and then the both of them had to laugh, thinking how simple he near cut the thumb off of himself that evening. It’s a small thing will amuse a boy and girl like Rosy and Art. God knows they’ll have whips to fret and worry over, before their day is done here! So why wouldn’t they laugh as long as they can?
Well, and so Art would laugh right enough while he’d be in company with Rosy. But all the whole time he’d keep thinking and planning; and when the next fair-day of Clough-na-Rinka came round, and he had to be up and off before daylight with stock of Heffernan’s to sell there, didn’t he bring his own bullock amongst them! Grass for him was in Art’s agreement with Mickey, and I needn’t say that that animal hadn’t the worst spot of the farm, neither was there any fear of he to be overlooked at foddering-time, as long as there was a wad of hay left. But sure that’s only human nature, to look after your own. No matter how kind you are to others, you’ll always have the most heart for yourself.
Art’s bullock was that fine a beast, that he was sold at top price, and the money was in Art’s pocket, long before Mickey Heffernan came bowling up to the fair-green, on the side-car, in time for the regular business of the day. And how he got on there, and what price he got for his stores, is neither here nor there now. Art passed no remarks to him in regard to his own sale; sure, why would he? And as soon as he had done with Heffernan’s cattle, he slipped off with himself, and Mickey went home without seeing him again.
The next morning, when Heffernan went to go to get up, behould ye! sight nor light of Art there wasn’t to be got about the whole town.
“And it’s too sure I am,” thinks Mickey to himself, “that he wasn’t in till late, whatever divilmint he was at! for I’d have heard him, up to nine o’clock, annyway! Nice conduction it is for he to be having, stopping out that-a-way, and neglecting his business, that he’s ped to do here for me! And now, where at all should he be, and isn’t here seeing about things this morning, only leaving all to me! But I’ll not fau’t him; sure it’s not long he’ll be in it. I can bid him to go, in another little while, anny day I like! Only, where the mischief is he now! Maybe it’s what he’s taking to go to Rafferty’s, airly as well as late. Sure it’s only losing his time he is, and making a laugh of himself he is as well; but divil mend him! standing up wid impidence he is, this minute!”
Off with Heffernan then to Rafferty’s, without even waiting to break his fast. When he got there, who should he see, only Tommy the Crab, airly and all as it was; and he with his pack upon the ground and talking away to the Widdah Rafferty.
She that gave the lepp when she seen Heffernan! the same as if she was half afraid of he hearing what Tommy had to say. But Mickey never said a word, only made a kind of a bow of the head when she passed him the time of day, and stood there.
“Good mornin’, Mr. Heffernan,” says Tommy, that had a tongue in his head like the clapper of a bell; “I hope I see you as well as I’d wish you and all belonging to ye! and that you may never be sick till I’m doctor enough to cure ye! and that won’t happen, till you’re that small, that you’ll have to stand up upon a sod of turf, to look into a naggin! Well, sure, you’re just in time here to get the news that I’m about telling to Mrs. Rafferty.”