“Throth it's time for you to ax—ay am I; since I ate my dinner, sorra puff I had.”
“Here then,” he replied, suiting the action to the word, and throwing a few halfpence into her lap; “go to Peggy Finigan's an' buy yourself a couple of ounces, an' smoke rings round you; and listen to me, go down before you come back to Bamy Keeran's an' see whether he has my shoes done or not, an' tell him from me, that if they're not ready for me tomorrow mornin', I'll get him exkummunicated.”
When the crone had gone out, the pedlar proceeded:
“Don't be cast down yet, I tell you; there's still time enough, an' they may be here still.”
“Be here still! why, good God! isn't the thrial to come on to-morrow, they say?”
“So itself; you may take my word for it, that even if he's found guilty, they won't hang him, or any man of his years.”
“Don't be too sure o' that,” replied Hanlon; “but indeed what could I expect afther dependin' upon a foolish dhrame?”
“Never mind; I'm still of the opinion that everything may come about yet. The Prophet's wife was with Father Hanratty, tellin' him something, an' he is to call here early in the mornin'; he bid me tell you so.”
“When did you see him?”
“To day at the cross roads, as he was goin' to a sick call.