"I'm glad to know this. Begging your pardon, Miss Piper, but if you come to me fer advice I must have more than half-truths. I've known Johnny Keene since he was a baby, and it's little good I've to his credit either, but I'm no sayin' it's not there. He takes after his mother, ye know. He's about run his course, and if Miss Trevor will take the word of an ould woman, who has learned from long experience, I'm thinkin' he'll be a good man fer her."
"You think so?" asked Miss Piper, brightening up.
"I'm sure of it, miss; it's in the blood, so it is."
The three women were now on a basis of plain understanding, and the balance of the conversation was easier and productive of results. After the two had departed, Nancy sat a long time gazing out of the window, and pondering the situation which had arisen. She did not entertain a doubt as to the ultimate fulfilment of her prophecies, but she wondered how long. The afternoon waned into evening, and she had a grand opportunity to knit and think, which two occupations were her chief enjoyments.
After supper, the usual company dropped into the bar. It was the common meeting-place for gossip and good-fellowship, and during the early hours Will Devitt did a lively business. But a curious change was taking place within Nancy McVeigh. From her rocker, in the rear apartment, where she and the girls spent their evenings, she could hear the loud laughs and talking that passed between her customers, mingled with the clink of glasses, and the noise was offensive to her. The thought repeated itself in her mind, Was the continued harassing of her teetotaller friends awakening a new phase in her life? For the first time, perhaps, since her deceased husband had bought the tavern, her surrounding's appeared distasteful, and almost sordid. More than once she arose and walked into the bar, where her presence was the signal for doffing of caps and a lowering of voices. She went for no particular purpose, and the men who were buying her liquor were surprised at the frown and curt replies which they received to their greetings.
"Nancy's in a bad humor," blurted one old fellow, who was a nightly caller, as she turned her back. Mistress McVeigh heard the remark, and it aroused her anger more than she would have cared to admit. She retraced her steps, and her glance wandered severely over the half-dozen men present.
"Ye should be at home with yer wife, Mr. Malone, and not wastin' yer toime waitin' about my premises fer some one to buy ye a drink," she said to the man who had spoken.
Malone laughed foolishly, and treated her words as a joke. He was on the verge of a maudlin state, and prepared to contest his rights to be there.
"Another drink, Mr. Devitt, and a glass all round," he blustered, throwing a piece of silver on to the bar.
"No, Mr. Malone, ye have had yer fill, an' it's no more ye'll git the night," Nancy insisted.