Mr. John Herlihy was a man of the order to whom the label
"respectable" inevitably attaches itself (that adjective which acts as
a touch-stone in the definition of class, and is a compliment up to a
certain point, an offence higher up the scale); one of those sound and
sensible and thrifty farmers who are the strength of Ireland, and are
as the stones of a break-water, over which the storm-froth of the
waters of politics sweeps unheeded.
"Well," Larry went on, "it wasn't a very nice way that those Carmodys
up at Derrylugga treated Miss Christian Talbot-Lowry the other day!
Killing her mare under her, the cowardly blackguards!"
The grey parrot eyes scanned Larry, summing him up, determining how
far he might be trusted, deciding that an oblique approach might be
most advisable.
"Major Lowry's a fine gentleman," said John Herlihy, largely; "a fine,
easy, _grauver_ man! I declare I was sorry to me heart when he
gave up the hounds! If it was to be only a scold or a curse from him,
ye'd rather it, and to have he be goin' through the country!"
"Then what have people against him? Good God!" cried Larry, hotly.
"It's too easy he is! _I_ wouldn't have let those devils off as
easy as he did!"
"I heard the Priest and a few more, was above at Mount Music ere
yesterday," said John Herlihy, in a slightly lowered voice, "about the
sale of the property they were, I b'lieve. You done well, Master
Larry, you got quit o' the whole kit of us!"
Having thus shelved the controversial subject, Mr. Herlihy, laughing
heartily at his own jest, moved towards his horse and car, that were
hitched to the chapel gate, and let down the upturned side of the car.
"Come! Get up, woman! Get up!" he called to his wife, a prosperous
lady, in a massive, blue, hooded cloak, who had been standing by the
gate, patiently waiting his pleasure; "don't be delaying me this way!"
He winked at Larry, scrambling on to the car.
"What _tashpy_ he has!" remarked Mrs. Herlihy, benignantly, as
Larry shook hands with her.
"Ah, you spoil him, Mrs. Herlihy! You should dock his oats!" said
Larry, laughing into her jolly, round, red face, that was glistening
with heat under the heavy cloth hood. "It's a grand hot day, isn't
it?"
"'Tis very warm, sir, indeed," corrected Mrs. Herlihy, as she mounted
the car with an agility as competent, and as unexpected, as that of a
trespassing cow confronted with a stone-faced bank.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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