“Och, for luck!” said Margaret. “There’s no such thing for me as luck. I often wish I was done with everything....”
“Ora, what kind of talk is that to be having!” said Moll; “you’re just down a bit in yourself, girl dear! But you won’t be so! To-morrow’s a new day. And did you hear the great fine wedding they’re to have above at Dempsey’s; for Kitty and old Mickey Heffernan?”
“I heard nothing about it, only that it was to be,” said Marg, “and could scarce believe it. But sure, let every one please themselves! But as for the wedding, I don’t know a ha’porth about it!”
“No, nor couldn’t,” said Moll, “living the way you do, up this lonesome place! But you’ll be there of course?”
“I’ll wait till I’m asked!” said Marg.
“And isn’t that what brought me here,” said Moll quickly, so quickly that Marg never suspected it was a lie of Moll’s. She was so well used to saying whatever would serve her turn that any one might be deceived into believing her. But what Moll said to herself, by way of excuse, was that she knew well Marg would be welcome, for Kitty Dempsey had a heart as big as a box and would welcome any old friend, such as Marg Molally, with a ceud mile failte!
“Of course you’re asked,” Moll went on, “and expected, too; and why would you not go? Hold up your head! there’s money bid for ye!”
“I’m done with all that sort of talk now,” said Marg; “that may be left to the young girls....”
“I dunno about that!” said Moll; “it mightn’t be too late at all for you. God’s good. And you never can tell what floor you’ll meet your luck on!”
“I have no great wish for going,” said Margaret, then.