“Never mind, asthore! it isn’t always the big people that reaps the harvest, Kitty!”
He was very nice and gay, the poor man, and always had a great wish for Kitty, and stood up for her whenever he could. But Kitty was the youngest of a long family; and as you may often notice in that case, she seemed to come in for the fag-end of everything.
When she was no more than a child, she could see plain enough that there wasn’t a dance or a fair, a wake or a wedding far or near, but all the other girls would go off to, and have their fling of whatever fun was to be had. And they would say to Kitty, “Better for you stop at home and let your hair grow! you’ll have your turn by and by!”
But there was not really much difference in age between Kitty and the next sister; only one had to stop at home, and somehow, Kitty was more agreeable to do that than any of the others. Though, as she grew up more, she often had a wish to go about, like another, and get her share of sport; and when they’d say, she’d have to wait another little while, and then let her take her turn, “To-morrow’s a long day!” Kitty would cry. But that never did her any good.
She would feel it lonely enough, of an evening, when the others were away off sporting somewhere, and only the old father and mother left about the place. The only consolation Kitty had those times was when she’d go off to the well for the can of water. Dan Grennan would be very apt to be there or somewhere about, and then, of course, he’d get the water for her to carry it home, as far as the back of the turf-clamp. Dan was a neighbour, a decent, quiet boy, what we call a “lone bird,” for he had no one belonging to him in the place.
Well and good; this got to be the habit most evenings, till Kitty’s mother took notice that the water began to be very late coming in for her cup of tea. So, out with her, one time, and she slipped along, very quiet and easy, till she heard a laugh from behind the turf-clamp. Round it she went; and there were Kitty and Dan, with the can of water on the ground between them.
There’s where they were in error, not to have talked their fill below at the well, and have done with the thing. But sure, young people are all the same. When they begin to chatter and talk with one another, they get it as hard to stop as if it was the sea they were striving to empty out with a sieve.
It chanced that old Mrs. Dempsey was very thirsty at that present time, which was what maybe had her so fractious. But indeed, at the best of times, the turn of a straw would leave her as cross as an armful of cats, she was so short in the temper.
“Well, Dan, me fine fellah!” she said; “and is it you that is in it?”
“It is, Mrs. Dempsey, mam,” answered Dan, quite civilly; and then he added, “and no harm in that, I hope?”