“Mad?”
“As a March hare, as an Epiphany cock, as a —— He’s very mad, and was in the madhouse last year when we were digging on the farm. It takes very little to set him off. Maybe he’s goin’ mad now; one never knows.”
“It was very good of you to stand up for me,” said Norah to Dermod about an hour later, when the party came in sight of the farmhouse. “Ye have the kind heart, and that farmer isn’t a nice man. I don’t like the looks of him!”
“He’s mad——”
“Mother of God!”
“—— as an Epiphany cock! He was in the madhouse last year.”
“Maybe he’ll do ye some harm one day!”
“Will he?” asked Dermod, squaring his shoulders and instinctively tightening his fists. Somehow he felt wonderfully elated since he had spoken to the farmer on the waggon.