“’Tis an awful night out,” she pursued. “’Tis lucky ye came here as ye did, Miss. We’re safe and sound, the saints be praised! An’ I got the ould hoss on his feet, mesilf, an’ no thanks to that lazy spalpane, Jim Bentley. The Lord is good to the poor Irish.”
Dorothy decided that the man, Jim Bentley, must be a neighbor whom Mrs. Hogan hired to do some of her heavy work. But the Amazon seemed quite capable of doing a good deal of farm work herself.
Now she set about getting supper, and she kept Celia Moran hopping to run her errands, fetch and carry, and otherwise aid in the preparation of the meal. It was no banquet; merely hot bread and fried pork, with some preserves, the latter evidently opened for the delectation of the “paying guest.”
Mrs. Hogan made it plain at every turn that she expected to be paid for everything she did for Dorothy. She was a veritable female miser. Dorothy had never imagined such a person in all her life before.
And, although the woman did not really put her hand upon little Celia, she was continually threatening her and hustling her about. She seemed even to begrudge the poor child her food, and the infinitesimal portion of preserve that was put upon Celia’s plate was, to Dorothy’s mind, “the last straw.”
The school girl boldly changed saucers with Celia and gave the little one her share of the sweetmeat.
Mrs. Hogan would not let her guest assist in clearing up after supper. Celia, in a long apron tied around her throat by its strings, and dragging on the floor so that her little feet in their worn shoes were impeded when she tried to walk, stood upon a box at the kitchen sink and washed the pile of dishes, while her mistress dried them—scolding and admonishing all the time.
“Av all the young imps of Satan! looker that now! D’ye not know tis wrong ter wash the greasy dishes first? How often must I tell ye? An’ her water’s not hot.
“That’s it! pour in some more. ’Tis too hot for ye? ’Twill cool. An’ yer han’s no bether nor mine, an’ w’en I was your age I washed dishes for a boardin’ house—twinty hear-r-rty men sat doon to the table, too. And they made a wash-basket o’ dishes iv’ry male, so they did!
“What’s the mather with yer han’s? Is ut a cute lady ye expict ter be? Ha! ye’ll l’arn some practical things, then, while yer wid me. Arrah! there’s a plate that ain’t clane. What d’ye mane by ut? ’Tis a good lickin’ ye oughter have!”