“I niver forget it,” retorted Reilly; and to prove his contention, led the way to the tool-house.
It was a stout little stone house with a strong door, and as Reilly opened it, he stepped in, looking back at the others with a sour smile.
“Forget it, did I?” he snapped. “Now, where did ye l’ave what ye left?”
“I hid it on top of that shelf—a little, small box,” Kate said. “Will you reach it down, Mr. Kerrigan? You’re as tall as the house yourself, and ’t will not trouble you, like these small men.”
Kerrigan stepped into the room, and in a flash she closed the door and locked it.
“Now, Michael, run, if you love me!” she exclaimed. “Do you think I want to see you murdered before my eyes? Your courage is two sizes too big for your body.”
But Michael did not move.
“Better be murdered than see you making love to that brute,” he said doggedly. “I’ll see it out now.”
She caught him by the shoulders and tried to push him away.
“But it’s not making love, Michael dear,” she replied. “It was just to stir father.” She explained in a word, with Michael’s face gradually relaxing in a grin.