He found a few comrade-boys of his in the shebeen, playing Twenty-five. He joined in, with whatever few coppers he had left. It took a long time, before they finished their game, so that it was pretty late when he got home. But that was all the wrong he did. He had no drink taken. There wasn’t a hair turned on him, when he walked into the house, so why Julia should be so raging mad with him, no one could tell. But she was and abused him up and down the banks; called him all the fools she could lay her tongue to; and still in all Peetcheen never said a word back to her.
But at last he got worn out, and left the house, thinking she might have a better chance to quiet down if he wasn’t there. So he turned back to Cusack’s, and spent the night in the Big Man’s barn.
Before he settled off to sleep, he had time to think over all that was after occurring; the wife to be so contrary with him, and all for nonsense, as a body might say. And then he considered over how short the money was with him; and where would he turn for the next few shillings Julia would be wanting from him. And then he got on to remembering what Dark Moll was after saying.
He fell asleep, however, before very long; and wakened up bright and early, with a great plan in his head.
This was, that he would drive off one of the two heifers that he had got in Julia’s fortune, to the fair that Dark Moll was after reminding him of; and a big price she brought. But Peetcheen and the likes of him often have great luck.
After that had come to pass, a strange thing happened. For what Peetcheen did with himself, or with the money that the people standing by saw him getting paid into his hand, was more than any one at Ardenoo knew, for many a long day, if ever they did. He just disappeared, so he did, as if the Good People took him out of it.
“Isn’t it a fright, all out,” the neighbours would say, “to see how a decent quiet man like Peetcheen could go out of that, and not one be able to give any account of him to the wife or the poor ould mother!”
Julia was most outrageous; at first very angry, and then took to fretting. But the old woman was twice as bad. God help her! she grew to be like nothing so much as a ha’porth of soap after the week’s washing.
She was out along the road one day, with the baby in her arms, when Dark Moll happened along, and of course began to chat; why not?
“And so that’s Peetcheen’s first, is it?” she says; “let me feel him in me arrums! och, the weight of him! the darlint fine lump of a gossoon that he is! Well, and how’s all goin’ on wid yiz these times!”