Heffernan never said one word, not even to ax, “What is it?” and so Tommy goes on, “I slep’ out last night, under the big furzy bush there below at the cross-roads, bekase I was a bit late and I coming from the fair. And along wid all, I had no great command of meself, after me day there, you persave. So, as I was a-loath to disturb any dacint house, knocking the people up to ax a bed from them, I just laid meself down there, where I had the best of shelter. Ay, and slep’ the best, too, till this morning, bright and airly, when I wakened hearing voices. And what should it be, only young Art, from beyant at your place, Mr. Heffernan, and little Rosy Rafferty, and they coming along the road to’arst me!”
“The Lord save us!” says the Widdah; “sure it’s not in airnest you are! and I having it laid out that it was what she was just a piece off from me in the fields, and she gethering a few sprigs for kindling....”
“Well, sure, you should know! and maybe that’s what she was at; and that Art was helping her. I couldn’t rightly say. Only, if they were at that, they must have changed their minds, and have left the sprigs in the gaps they were stopping ...” and as he said the word, Heffernan gave a kind of a snort, for there was nothing he had more enmity to, than the fashion women does have, of pulling the bushes out of holes in the fences that he’d be after getting filled up. The weight of them would liefer do that, nor to pick up what little kindling-wood they’d want off the ground, and mostly always there’s plenty lying loose to their hand.
Tommy went on with his story, and a smirk on his face when he saw the way he had Mickey annoyed about the sprigs.
“Ay indeed! Nobody else in this earthly world, only their two selves! There they were, and they coming along, looking half proud of themselves, and half afraid; and their eyes round over their shoulders every minute, as if they were afraid of some one coming after them. And the big hurry there appeared to be on them!
“When they seen me, they stopped short.
“‘In the name of God,’ says I to them, ‘where are yiz off to, at this hour,’ says I, ‘and the stars not out of the sky yet?’
“Art laughed, but Rosy blushed up.
“‘Oho!’ says I, ‘what colour’s red? and is this what yiz are up to?’
“But they said nothing, only Art whips a whole big handful of money out of his pocket carelesslike, as if it was just that much dirt.