Domestic fiction; Ireland -- Fiction; Land tenure -- Fiction; Landlord and tenant -- Fiction; Landowners -- Fiction
“Faith I will thin, my dear,” replied the widow; “never fear else—I’ll
go to him, or any one else that sends to me in a dacent manner. May-be
it’s wanting tay in the shop he is. I’ll go to him immediately. But, as
for giving you up, I mane you to stay here, till you’ve a proper home
of your own; and Barry Lynch has more in him than I think, av’ he makes
me alter my mind. Set down quiet, Meg, and get your dinner.” And the
widow got up, and proceeded to the shop.
The girls were all in commotion. One went to the door at the top of the
stairs, to overhear as much as possible of what was to take place; and
the other clasped Anty’s hand, to re-assure her, having first thrown
open the door of one of the bed-rooms, that she might have a place of
retreat in the event of the enemy succeeding in pushing his way
upstairs.
“Your humble sarvant, Mr Lynch,” said the widow, entering the shop and
immediately taking up a position of strength in her accustomed place
behind the counter. “Were you wanting me, this evening?” and she took
up the knife with which she cut penn’orths of tobacco for her
customers, and hitting the counter with its wooden handle looked as
hard as copper, and as bold as brass.
“Yes, Mrs Kelly,” said Barry, with as much dignity as he could muster,
“I do want to speak to you. My sister has foolishly left her home this
morning, and my servants tell me she is under your roof. Is this true?”
“Is it Anty? Indeed she is thin: ating her dinner, upstairs, this very
moment;” and she rapped the counter again, and looked her foe in the
face.
“Then, with your leave, Mrs Kelly, I’ll step up, and speak to her. I
suppose she’s alone?”
“Indeed she ain’t thin, for she’s the two girls ating wid her, and
myself too, barring that I’m just come down at your bidding. No; we’re
not so bad as that, to lave her all alone; and as for your seeing her,
Mr Lynch, I don’t think she’s exactly wishing it at present; so, av’
you’ve a message, I’ll take it.”
“You don’t mean to say that Miss Lynch—my sister—is in this inn, and
that you intend to prevent my seeing her? You’d better take care what
you’re doing, Mrs Kelly. I don’t want to say anything harsh at present,
but you’d better take care what you’re about with me and my family, or
you’ll find yourself in a scrape that you little bargain for.”
“I’ll take care of myself, Mr Barry; never fear for me, darling; and,
what’s more, I’ll take care of your sister, too. And, to give you a bit
of my mind—she’ll want my care, I’m thinking, while you’re in the
counthry.”
“I’ve not come here to listen to impertinence, Mrs Kelly, and I will
not do so. In fact, it is very unwillingly that I came into this house
at all.”
“Oh, pray lave it thin, pray lave it! We can do without you.”
“Perhaps you will have the civility to listen to me. It is very
unwillingly, I say, that I have come here at all; but my sister, who
is, unfortunately, not able to judge for herself, is here. How she came
here I don’t pretend to say—”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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