"Who's for Puss-in-the-Corner?" he said, glancing from one young-old aunt to another.
"We'll have a rare game; it's a fine afternoon," said Bride.
"Help yourself to some more raspberries, Flannigan," said Malachi, "and there's the cream jug by you. Pour it on plentiful, for there's a bit of a lark coming on, man. Till and me, we know all about it, don't we, Till?"
Matilda had in reality hardly touched her dinner. She felt her head in a whirl and her limbs aching. The strangely fierce appearance of The Desmond at the head of the board terrified her beyond speaking.
"Now, we'll soon get it over," said Malachi. "Here you are, Till, shaking a bit, well, I'll take your little hand. Come along, you know old Malachi well enough by this time."
"I can't—I won't—I can't!" sobbed Tilly.
"For the Lord's sake don't have that girl howling in my presence," said The Desmond.
"She's not howling really, father. She's only bringing you a little present. She's taken a mighty fancy to you, dad, and she wants to give you this little parcel with her humble respects."
"I don't mind taking presents if they are properly earned and suitable," said The Desmond. "What's the matter with ye, colleen? I'm not a bear or a lion."