“I’m thankful to ye, sir,” said Moll, “but I wouldn’t wish to be too troublesome....”
“Not the least trouble in life!” he said, and gave her his hand across the well of the car, to help her up. And then, when they were jogging on again, they fell into chat and the whole topic between them was, poor Kitty Dempsey and the way she was left with the helpless old mother; and she with ne’er a one in it but herself.
“But sure, she needn’t be so!” said Moll. “There’s plenty of boys would be glad enough to be sending in their papers there ... and she your niece, too, Mr. Cusack!”
“Troth, I’m not so sure about the boys at all!” said Big Cusack; “the most of them, they put a high figure on themselves now. They’re not to be caught with chaff, these times. Kitty Dempsey, indeed, with no stock to speak of on the farm! And it all racked out, the mother taking in grazing cattle, and letting them eat the roots out of the pasture ... and the ditches choked ... and fences wanting to be made up ... let alone the two years’ rent that’s owing on the place this minute....”
He had a sup taken at that time, or he wouldn’t have been so talkative.
“Do you tell me that! Dear, dear!” said Moll; though well she knew it all before he spoke. But there’s no way so good to flatter people up, as to listen to them talking as if it was all new to you, although you might have the thing twice as well off, as they would that were telling it. Dark Moll was well aware of this. Besides, being old and poor, as well as blind, the creature! of course she knew she ought to be very humble in herself. So she had the habit, as I said before, of being very careful and exact in what she would say, and in particular to a man like Big Cusack, a strong farmer that had a right to every respect.
“I do tell you that, and, moreover, I’m sure of it!” says he in answer.
“Troth, then, and I’m not one bit sure!” said Moll, “askin’ your pardon and grantin’ your grace for the word, Mr. Cusack! But I think, and not alone that, but it’s too sure I am that there’s plenty would jump at little Kitty Dempsey, ould mother and all. Sure, she can’t last for ever, God help her! and let her do her best. I know one, anyway, that I’m too sure would take her,” says Moll, “this instant minute; a qui’t, settled boy, wid money in the bank, as well as the snuggest place you need ask to lay an eye upon! And he wanting a woman there, this len’th of time! And well you know that I’m only saying what’s the truth!”
“Who is it you’re speaking of?” asks Cusack.
“Why, who but Mickey Heffernan!” said Moll, “away off at the Furry Farm; he’s after marrying the sister Julia to a boy from Clough-na-Rinka ... one of the Caffreys ... but that’s no consarn of a man like you, Mr. Cusack! But poor Mickey hasn’t one to do a hand’s turn for him now, barring himself. Sure he had a right to have looked into the thing before this, and not be leaving himself the way he is. And now he’s driving about the country, I hear, looking for a wife; and his spokesman with him....”