“I have no great acquaintance with the man,” said Cusack.
“No, nor couldn’t,” said Moll; “Mickey was like the rest of the Heffernans, great always at keeping himself to himself. And the lonesome place he has! But sure, if it was arranged, can’t he come to live at Dempsey’s, and be seeing after the two places from there, quite handy?”
“That might answer,” says Cusack. “Middling ould he is, I believe?”
“No more than sixty, if he’s that, itself,” said Moll; “and as sound as a trout; ay, and maybe would be better to Kitty than one of them young bloomin’ boys that’s going these times, the sorra much good they are only spreeing and play-acting.... But Mickey is not that way of thinking ... real sober and.... Let me down off o’ the car, Mr. Cusack, sir, if you please.... It’s to Biddy Fay’s I’m going for the night....”
“We’re past it,” said Cusack.
Moll knew that, as well as he did. But it came more natural to her to tell a lie than the truth, even if it was to do her no good itself.
“Past the turn to Biddy’s are we? but sure we can’t be far,” said Moll; “just stop if you please, sir, and let me down and give me a twist round to set me going right, and may the Lord reward ye for helping the poor dark ould woman!”
So Cusack did that; but it wasn’t to Biddy Fay’s Moll was steering; no, but passed on, and made for the Furry Farm, as hard as she could go. It was a long way, and she couldn’t make it that night at all. But the next evening she got to Mickey Heffernan’s right enough.
There was no one within at that time, except the boy that was spokesman to Mickey in looking for the wife. He was a neighbour’s son, well known to Moll.
“So you haven’t Mickey marrit yet?” said Moll, when they had passed one another the time of day.