“Late? the sorra late!” said Moll.
“Why wouldn’t it be late, and the wedding all fixed up? ... let alone the rent that’s owing....” Kitty was thinking that Dan had come home as poor as he went.
“Och sure! ‘divil dance on the rint!’—there’s the very word Dan said!” said Moll; “it’s churns and ass-loads of money he has with him, that he’s after bringing out of America!”
That was only foolish talk of Moll’s. A few pounds was all Dan had been able to gather up while he was away. But it was enough, for all that. To start with, he had given Moll a half-sovereign out of his purse, to let him have a word with Kitty. Ay, and had promised her as much more, if he got her. And Moll had never owned that much before in her life. Whereas, all old Heffernan would be good for would be an odd copper or two, and maybe an apronful of potatoes, whatever time they would be going to waste.
“Poor Dan, and he only landed home yesterday!” said Moll; “and the fine figure of a man that he is!”
“Ora, what will I do, at all at all?” cried Kitty, with the tears pouring down her face. They two were shut into Kitty’s room, while outside the kitchen was full up of people, fidgeting about, waiting for the bride to appear and passing the time by looking at every mortal thing in the place.
The table was all laid out for the wedding dinner, the greatest you could see. And when any of the Dempseys’ friends would pass remarks, carelesslike, on the fine white table-cloth, or the china teacups, or the silver forks and spoons; they well knowing that all had been borrowed from Miss O’Farrell above at the Big House ... on the minute, Heffernan’s spokesman would cry out: “We’ve bigger and betther at home, in our place!”
But in Kitty’s room: “What will you do, is it?” Moll was saying: “well, seeing the strong faction that Heffernan has with him, there would be neither sense nor reason in Dan Grennan’s coming in for you among them all, and he without one, only himself; barring that he could r’ise a ruction, like Phaudrig Crohoore! But he never could; and as he can’t come to you, you’ll have to go to him.”
“How so?” says Kitty; “they’re the full up of the kitchen, so that I couldn’t pass them by; and as for the window, it’s that small I needn’t try that way; so what am I to do, Moll?”
“Troth, it’s you has little wit! What’s to ail you, only to put on my cloak, and the hankercher over your head, and draw it well down over your eyes ... and who’s to know is it Dark Moll or Kitty Dempsey?... I mean, Mrs. Dan Grennan, that is to be...!”