"Do ye hear that?" said old Mrs Clay. "The very childer's turned agin him—an' small wonder, the ould ruffan; it's the quare woman would have him."
"By all accounts she is that," said Gordie O'Rorke, joining the group; "they say she's six fut in her stockin's an' as blackavised as the ould boy himself."
"We'll be givin' her the fine welcome the night," said his granny; "she'll be thinkin' she's got to her long home."
"They say she's got the gran' clothes," said Gordie, "an' a silk dress an'a gowld watch an' chain; mebby that's what tuk his fancy."
"If she doesn't luk out he'll be eatin' it," said Patsy. There was a roar of laughter.
"There's none knows better than yous what he could ate," said Mrs M'Rea. "Any bite or sup I tuk the woman I sat and seen it in her afore I come away."
"He's stepped over his brogues this time," said Gordie, "for me uncle up in Ballynahinch is well acquainted with the woman, an' he sez she's a heeler, an' no mistake."
"Well, well," said ould Mrs Glover, "I'm sayin' she'll not have her sorras to seek."
"No; nor Jimmie either," said Mrs M'Rea. "But there, where's the good a' talkin'? It's the lamentable thing entirely; but they're marriet now, an' God help both a' them."
"'Deed yis; they're marriet," said Mrs O'Rorke, "an we'll not be forgettin' it the night. It's tar bar'ls we'll be burnin'—they'll be expectin' it, to be sure—an' a torchlight procession out to meet them forby."