“Aw, ‘deed ay,” cried Judy, and tittered most boisterously. “Aw, me brave Hannah.”
“Then begins the fun, me dears. First of all, Sally Hogan, in trying to lift a bit o’ bread an’ butter from a plate that Kitty held before her, must spill her tay over her lap an’ start screechin’ that she was kilt. Then Mary Dolan must finish her cup at a gulp, an’ forgettin’ it was in Hannah’s parlour she was at afternoon tay, an’ not at home in the kitchen, must give the dregs a swirl an’ sling them over her shoulder against the wall. Then Sally Hogan again, in tryin’ to keep back a laugh at the tay leaves on the wall, an’ the glare of Hannah across at them, must get a crumb in her throat an’ bring the whole room to thump her on the back.
“Then Jane Flaherty gets a second cup wi’ no sugar in it, an’ makes a face like a monkey’s, an’ gives a big splutter, an’ sets Kitty Malone off into a fit o’ laughin’; an’ Kitty sets Jane off, an’ Jane sets Mary off, an’ Mary sets Sally off; an’ there sits Hannah in her calico shroud, beside the ace of diamonds, wi’ a face on her like a child cuttin’ its teeth, an’ her arm out, an’ her shoutin’ for Kitty to take herself out o’ the room. An’ in the middle o’ the whole hubbub the door opens, an’ in tramps big John in his dirty boots, wi’ his shirt-sleeves turned up, an’ hay ropes round his legs, an’ his hat on the back o’ his head, an’ his pipe in his mouth—in steps John, an’ stands lookin’ at them all.
“‘Ho, ho,’ roars John, an’ marches across the calf-skin. ‘What have we here? A tay party,’ says he, ‘as I’m a livin’ sinner—an’ me not to know a thing about it! Well, better late nor niver,’ says he, then turns an’ looks at Hannah. ‘Aw, how d’ye do, Mrs. Breen? says he, wi’ a laugh. ‘I hope I see ye well in your regimentals. An’ how the blazes are the rest o’ ye, me girls?’ says he to the three along the wall. ‘I’m glad to see ye all so hearty an’ merry, so I am. But what in glory are ye all doin’ over there, away from the table? Why don’t ye sit an’ have your tay like Christians?’ says he. ‘Come over, girls—come over this mortial minute,’ says John,’an’ I’ll have a cup wi’ ye meself, so I will.’
“Then Hannah rises in her calico shroud.
“‘John,’ says she, ‘it’s afternoon tay it’ll be, an tables—’
“‘Aw, sit ye down, Hannah,’ shouts John, ‘sit ye down, woman, an’ be like another for once in a way.’
“‘John,’ says Hannah, again, an’ looks knives an’ forks at him, ‘where’s your manners the day?’
“‘Aw, manners be danged,’ roars John, an’ throws his hat into the corner; ‘give us a cup o’ tay an’ quit your nonsense. Come on, girls,’ says he to the women, ‘come over, an’ have a cup in comfort wi’ me here at the table.’
“‘John!’ says Hannah again, ‘ye can’t sit at this table; it’s—it’s too small,’ says she.