“Not at all!” said Kitty; “where there’s a cuckoo in a nest, he’ll be pushing out the other young birds, to take all himself. But there’s no one at the Furry Farm for little Bride to be interfering with; there she is, bird alone! And so, that’s how it comes to pass, what Dan was telling me about, only last night, that he seen at Heffernan’s. He chanced to be there a bit late, and a windy sort of a night it was, and neither raining nor letting it alone, only the air dark with the wet that ought to fall and wasn’t. And Dan said, you’d think there was a whole troop of children playing and chattering and laughing, in the corner of the yard where the bit of the old Heffernan castle is, they say. It was afterwards he thought how queer it was! he was in too great a hurry then, to pass any remarks, for we none of us care to be too late crossing the Furry Hills at night....”
“You’re right in that, too!” said Moll.
“... but Dan said,” Kitty went on, “that it was after he got back here he began to think it over ... and sure, he thought it was the strangest thing, to say there was no one there only little Bride, and she was going on talking and making answer then back to herself, as if she had a couple of Comrade Children there with her ... and even dogs she was talking to! One she called Bixey and another was Slangs; and she’d scold them, most bitter and natural; and then she’d pet them and make up friends with them again.... And sure there was neither child nor dog in that place, only Bridie herself! It was a fright, Dan said!”
“So it was, a fright,” Moll said, “and appears most curious too! But now I must be off about me business....”
“What hurry are you in?” said Kitty; “Dan is gone off to-day with Heffernan ... some business or other....”
“If that’s so,” said Moll, “I may’s well give poor Marg a look in; lonesome the crature does be there....”
So with that, she waddled off, big cloak and stick and all. She guessed she had got all Kitty had to spare for her, there not being too much in that house, by reason of all the children. And when she heard of Mickey not being at home, she bethought her that it would be a good opportunity for making a call at the Furry Farm. Marg, she knew, would be more free to give, when himself wasn’t there.
But when Moll got to Heffernan’s, it wasn’t what she expected that she found there. She looked to be brought into a quiet, orderly, comfortable place, such as Marg’s kitchen had the name of always being; and getting well fed and comforted in every way there. But the whole place was upside down. Not a hand’s turn had been done there since the breakfast was ett; everything through-other, and poor Marg herself running up and down and here and there, like a mad-woman.
Little Brigid was sitting on her creepy-stool by the fire, pale and shivering with the fright; and the big tears were streaming down her face.
“Ora, what’s this at all at all? or what’s the matter?” said Moll, who dark and all as she was, as I said before, could always give a good guess at what was going on, and in particular if it was anything wrong.