Kate Keohane’s voice moved unhurried from sentence to sentence, and her slow, pale eyes turned for an instant to the lair of the witnesses under the gallery.
“And you’re asking the Bench to believe that this decent man left his business in Lisheen in order to slash fish at your mother?” said Mr. Mooney, truculently.
“B’lieve me, sorra much business he laves afther him wherever he’ll go!” returned the witness. “Himself and his wife had business enough on the sthrand when the fish was dividing, and it is then themselves put every name on me.”
“Ah, what harm are names!” said Mr. Mooney, dallying elegantly with a massive watch-chain.
“Come, now, ma’am! will you swear you got any ill-usage from Con Brickley or his wife?” He leaned over the front of his pew, and waited for the answer with his massive red head on one side.
“I was givin’ blood like a c-cow that ye’d shtab with a knife!” said Kate Keohane, with unshaken dignity. “If it was yourself that was in it ye’d feel the smart as well as me. My hand and word on it, ye would! The marks is on me head still, like the prints of dog-bites!”
She lifted a lock of hair from her forehead, and exhibited a sufficiently repellent injury. Flurry Knox leaned forward.
“Are you sure you haven’t that since the time there was that business between yourself and the post-mistress at Munig? I’m told you had the name of the post-office on your forehead where she struck you with the office stamp! Try, now, sergeant, can you read Munig on her forehead?”
The Court, not excepting its line of church-wardens, dissolved into laughter; Kate Keohane preserved an offended silence.
“I suppose you want us to believe,” resumed Mr. Mooney, sarcastically, “that a fine, hearty woman like you wasn’t defending yourself!” Then, with a turkey-cock burst of fury, “On your oath, now! What did you strike Honora Brickley with? Answer me that now! What had you in your hand?”