“‘Then pull it out from the wall,’ roars John, ‘pull it out and let us get round it. Come on,’ says he, an’ grips an end o’ the table, ‘give it a lift across the floor!’
“‘No, no, John,’ shouts Hannah, an’ grips t’other end to keep it from goin’; ‘ye mustn’t, John!’
“‘Out wi’ it,’ roars John again.
“‘No, no,’ shouts Hannah, ‘ye can’t—aw, ye can’t—aw, ye mustn’—no, no, John!’
“‘Aw, to glory wi’ you an’ it,’ shouts John. ‘Here let me at it meself!...’
“An’ the next minute Hannah was screechin’ in her shroud; an’ there was a clatter o’ crockery, like as if a bull had gone slap at a dresser; an’ John was standin’ like as if he was shot, in the middle of the floor; an’ lyin’ at his feet was the wee table, an’ the ace of diamonds, an’ the whole o’ Hannah’s cups an’ saucers, an’ the taypot, an’ all, in a thousand pieces.... Aw, heart alive ... heart alive!...”
Anne leant upon her rake and bowed her head in laughter. Two minutes grace she had; then said I:
“What had happened, Anne?”
She looked at me. “Happened? Sure, the table was only an ould dressin’-table, an’ had only three legs, an’ was propped wi’ the lame side against the wall; an’ when John put it down in the middle of the floor—Aw, now,” cried Anne, “that’s enough, that’s enough.... Aw, me sides—me sides.”
“Aw, me sides—me sides,” cried Judy, shaking below her big sun-bonnet. “Te-he!”