Besides, when there would be two or three looking for every job, why wouldn’t a man take the best he could get to do it for him? That is how Peetcheen was always left out in the cold. He never was the best at anything. Civil-spoken and willing the creature was always. Somehow, whatever he would attempt would go contrary on him though.
“I don’t know at all what sort of a gaum you must be, Peetcheen!” said Big Cusack to him, one day that they were drawing home his turf from the bog, and Peetcheen had come along with no more than a half-load; “a body would think it was teacakes for ladies you had laid out so careful, instead of sods of turf!”
Peetcheen was standing, with his mouth open, staring at the half-empty cart, and at last he said, “Sure I’m stupid, and always was! I filled that cart full, when I was leaving the bog.... It’s what I have a right to be hommered!”
“What use would it be, to go thrash ye?” said Cusack; “only a waste of time! Letting the fine turf dribble out along the road, for the want of fastening the creel in the back of the cart! You give me a disgoost with yer foolishness! I have no patience with the like!”
Peetcheen made him no answer, and Big Cusack got madder than ever.
“It’s ashamed of yourself you ought to be,” he began again, “a big gobbeen like you, sitting at home, and taking the bit out of your poor old mother’s mouth! Don’t let me see your big, useless carcass here again! What ails you, that you can’t be a man or a mouse? Why don’t ye strike off somewhere for yourself, where the people don’t know you, and you might have a chance?”
“Well, from this out!” said poor Peetcheen.
The very next day, it was all over Ardenoo that Peetcheen was after quitting.
Dark Moll went to see his mother about it.
“It’s not true what they’re all saying below there at the Shop, Mrs. Caffrey, mam,” said she, “that Peetcheen has wint off from you?”