“Oh! bother him.”
“Bother Father Magrath, young man?”
“Well, then, Judy, don’t be angry; I only means that a dragoon knows rather more of these matters than a priest.”
“Well, then, I’m not so sure of that. But, anyhow, I’d have you to remember it ain’t a Widow Malone you have beside you.”
“Never heard of the lady,” said Power.
“Sure, it’s a song—poor creature—it’s a song they made about her in the North Cork when they were quartered down in our county.”
“I wish you’d sing it.”
“What will you give me, then, if I do?”
“Anything—everything—my heart—my life.”