“An' 'twas well thought o' Darby,” she replied; “an' may the blessin' o' God rest upon him for it! A male's mate or a nights lodgin' he'll never want under my father's roof for that goodness to him. I'll be quiet.”
There was now a short pause, during which those in the room heard a smack, accompanied by the words, “Dheah. Grashthias! throth I'm the betther o' that sup, so I am. Nothin' keeps this thief of a configuration down but it. Dheah Grashthias for that! Oh, thin, this is the stuff! It warms the body to the top o' the nails!”
“Don't spare it, Darby,” said old Reillaghan, “if it does you good.”
“Avourneen,” said Darby, “it's only what gives me a little relief I ever take, jist by way of cure, for it's the only thing does me good, when I am this-a-way.”
Several persons in the neighborhood were, in the mean time, flocking to Reillaghan's house. A worthy man, accompanied by his wife, entered as the pilgrim had concluded. The woman, in accordance with the custom of the country, raised the Irish cry, in a loud melancholy wail, that might be heard at a great distance.
Darby, who prided himself on maintaining silence, could not preserve the consistency of his character upon this occasion, any more than on that of Mike's recent symptoms of life.
“Your sowl to the divil, you faggot!” he exclaimed, “what do you mane? The divil whip the tongue out o' you! are you going to come here only to disturb the boy that's not dead yet? Get out o' this, an' be asy wid your skhreechin', or by the crass that died for us, only you're a woman, I'd tumble you wid a lick o' my cant. Keep asy, you vagrant, an' the dacent boy not dead yet. Hell bellows you, what do you mane?”
“Not dead!” exclaimed the woman, with her body bent in the proper attitude, her hands extended, and the crying face turned with amazement to Darby. “Not dead! Wurrah, man alive, isn't he murdhered?”
“Hell resave the matther for that!” replied Darby. “I tell you he's livin' an' will live I hope, barrin' your skirlin' dhrives the life that's in him out of him. Go into the room there to the women, an' make yourself scarce out o' this, or by the padareens about me, I'll malivogue you.”
“We can't be angry wid the dacent woman,” observed old Reillaghan, “in regard that she came to show her friendship and respect.”