"'Me an' me wife both feels,' went on Maggie, 'that we couldn't rest
happy unless we made sure that yous ended your days in peace and
comfort. This is a big house and a comfortable place, with room an' to
spare for the two of yous, and you'll get the warmest of welcomes from
nephew and niece. So I am sendin' you the price of your journey, with
maybe a few dollars over, for fear you should come short, an' I hope
you'll come out by the next boat, for there isn't much time to spare,
an' you'll be gettin' too old for travellin'. I will say no more this
time, my dear uncle and aunt, but _cead mille failthe_ from your
affectionate La'rence Kearney."
"Sure it isn't across the say he wants us to go," cried Dan in dismay;
"is it to America?"
"God bless him!" exclaimed the wife, with fervour; "it's him that
always had the good heart. To think of him plannin' an' contrivin'
everythin' that way, even to the monyement."
"I wonder," said Dan regretfully, "what sort of a monyement at all
he'd have put over us? 'Pon me word it 'ud have looked elegant
beyant."
"Would ye have goold letthers on it, ma'am?" put in Peggy Murphy
admiringly. "I seen wan at Kilpedder wan time that I went up when a
cousin o' me own was buried, an' it was the loveliest ye ever seen.
There was goold letthers, an' a crass on the top, an' at the four
corners of it there was a kind of an ornamentation the same as a
little skull--'pon me word, the natest thing ye could see! No bigger
nor me fist, ye know; but all set out elegant with little
weeshy-dawshy teeth, all as perfect as ye could imagine. It was some
rale grand ould gentleman that was afther puttin' it up for his wife.
I wondher if yez 'ud have had wan made anything that shape."
Dan looked pensive, and rubbed his hands slowly together, tantalised
perhaps by the magnificence of the vision; but "herself" shook her
head with a proud little smile.
"There's no knowin' what we'd have had," she observed. "Larry said
he'd have axed Father Taylor to choose us the best, an' I b'lieve his
reverence has very good taste."
"'Deed an' he has, ma'am. But will yez be goin' off wid yourselves to
America out o' this?"
"Aye will we," responded Mrs. Brophy, with spirit. "Bedad, if Dan an'
me is ever to see the world it's time we started."
"It's very far off," said poor old Dan nervously; "it's a terrible
long way to be goin', alanna. If it wasn't for Larry expectin' us over
beyant--"
"What would ye do, then?" interrupted his energetic little wife
fiercely. "Stop at home, perishin' wid the cold an' hunger, an' the
rain droppin' down on us while we're atin' our bit o' dinner; me that
bad wid the rheumatiz I can hardly move hand or fut, an' yourself
taken wid them wakenesses so that it's all ye can do to lift the
potaties."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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