“‘Yis, ma’am,’ answers Kitty, an’ stands back; then turns her head, when she gets to the calf-skin, an’ winks at the three sittin’ by the wall; an’ out Mary Dolan bursts into a splutter of a laugh.
“‘Aw, Lord,’ says Mary, an’ holds her ribs; ‘aw, dear Lord,’ says she. But Hannah, standin’ pourin’ tay into the wee cups, just kept her face as straight as if Mary was a dummy, an’ in a minute she turns round to Kitty.
“‘Hand the cups to the ladies,’ says she, an’ sits her down.
“Well, childer dear, Kitty steps from the calf-skin, lifts two cups an’ saucers from the tray, carries them across the floor, an’ offers one to Jane Flaherty, wi’ this hand, an’ t’other to Sally Hogan wi’ that hand. An’ Sally looks at the cup, an’ then at Kitty; an’ Jane looks at Kitty, an’ then at the cup, an’ says Sally:
“‘Is it take it from ye you’d have me do, Kitty Malone?’ says she.
“‘It is so,’ answers Kitty wi’ a grin.
“‘An’ where in glory wid ye have me put it, Kitty Malone?’ asks Sally an’ looks here an’ there. ‘Sure—sure, there’s no table next or near me,’ says she.
“‘It’s afternoon tay, Mrs. Hogan,’ says Hannah across the floor; ‘an’ at afternoon tay, tables aren’t fashionable,’ says she, an’ grins to herself.
“‘Well, thank God, Hannah Breen,’ says Mary Dolan, ‘that afternoon tay, as ye call it, has only come my way once in me life. Take the cup in your fist, Sally Hogan,’ says Mary, ‘an’ if ye break it, bad luck go with it, an’ if ye don’t, you’ve been a lady for once in your life; an’ when you’re done, stick it there on the floor. I’m obliged to ye, Kitty Malone,’ says Mary again, an’ takes a cup; ‘an’ if so be I choke meself wi’ the full o’ this thimble wi’ a handle on it,’ says Mary, an’ squints at the cup, ‘you’ll do me the favour to tell Pat I died a fool. An’ if such things go well wi’ afternoon tay, Kitty, agra, I’d trouble ye for a look at a spoon.’ “... Aw, me bould Mary,” cried Anne and laughed in her glee. “Ye were the girl for Hannah, so ye were.”