Well, Paddeen could not but look at the young men, for he knew some of them before they were lost in the lake; but he said nothing, though he thought a great deal more for all that, like an oyster:—no, not the wind of a word passed his lips; so on he went towards the big house, bold enough, as if he had seen nothing to speak of; yet all the time mightily wishing to know who the young woman could be that the young men were singing the song about.
When he had nearly reached the door of the great house, out walks from the kitchen a powerful fat woman, moving along like a beer-barrel on two legs, with teeth as big as horses’ teeth, and up she made towards him.
“Good morrow, Paddeen,” said she.
“Good morrow, Ma’am,” said he.
“What brought you here?” said she.
“’Tis after Rory Keating’s gold ring,” said he, “I’m come.”
“Here it is for you,” said Paddeen’s fat friend, with a smile on her face that moved like boiling stirabout [gruel.]
“Thank you, Ma’am,” replied Paddeen, taking it from her:—“I need not say the Lord increase you, for you’re fat enough already. Will you tell me, if you please, am I to go back the same way I came?”
“Then you did not come to marry me?” cried the corpulent woman in a desperate fury.
“Just wait till I come back again, my darling,” said Paddeen: “I’m to be paid for my message, and I must return with the answer, or else they’ll wonder what has become of me.”