“The son of her was a bullet-headed ownsha,” replied Mogue, “and herself—well now, that I may never die in sin, if I could say rightly. I was fetehin' some oats to Gimlet Eye, an' didn't take any particular notice. The ownsha had black sooty hair, cut short, an' walked as if his feet were sore—and indeed it strikes me that he had kibes—for these poor people isn't overly clane, an' don't wash their feet goin' to bed at night, barrin' at Christmas or Easther, the crathurs. But, sure the Lord look down on them, they have enough to do to live at all!”
“You couldn't say what direction she came from?”
“Well, then, no.”
“Nor the direction she went by?”
“Well, no sir, I could not.”
“But are you certain it was to-day, and not yesterday, you saw her?”
“Then that's what's puzzlin' me—eh! let me see—ay—it was to-day—an' I'll tell you how I know it. Bekaise it was to-day I brought the oats to Gimlet Eye—you know he was harrowing the black park yestherday and was in care of Paudeen Sthuccaun. But sure, sir, maybe somebody else about the place seen them.”
An investigation was consequently held upon this reasonable suggestion, but we need scarcely assure our readers, without effect; the aforesaid “poor woman” having had existence only in the fertile imagination of stainless and uncorrupted saint Mogue.
The latter had scarcely retired, when a gentle knock came to the door, and Alick, on opening it himself, found their friend and neighbor, Darby Hourigan, standing outside.
“Well, Hourigan, what do you want now? have you repented, and come to the resolution of paying your tithes?”