Tales and Novels Volume VIII Part 42

_Enter BIDDY._

_Miss G._ Well, what is it?

_Biddy._ The bed. I was seeing was the room empty, that I might make it; for it's only turned up it is, when I was called off to send in dinner.

So I believe I'd best make it now, for the room will be wanting for the tea-drinking, and what not.

_Miss G._ Ay, make the bed do, sure it's asy, and no more about it;--you've talked enough about it to make twinty beds, one harder nor the other,--if talk would do. (_BIDDY goes to make the bed._) And I'm sure there's not a girl in the parish does less in the day, for all the talk you keep. Now I'll just tell all you didn't do, that you ought this day, Biddy.

[_While Miss GALLAGHER is speaking to BIDDY, Mr. GALLAGHER opens a press, pours out, and swallows a dram._

_Christy._ Oh, that would be too long telling, Florry, and that'll keep cool. Lave her now, and you may take your scould out another time. I want to spake to you. What's this I wanted to say? My memory's confusing itself. Oh, this was it--I didn't till you how I got this promise of the inn: I did it nately--I got it for a song.

_Miss G._ You're joking,--and I believe, sir, you're not over and above sober. There's a terrible strong smell of the whiskey.

_Christy._ No, the whiskey's not strong, dear, at-all-at-all!--You may keep smelling what way you plase, but I'm as sober as a judge, still,--and, drunk or sober, always knows and knewed on which side my bread was b.u.t.tered:--got it for a song, I tell you--a bit of a complimentary, adulatory scroll, that the young lady fancied--and she, slap-dash, Lord love her, and keep her always so! writes at the bottom, _granted the poet's pet.i.tion_.

_Miss G._ And where on earth, then, did you get that song?

_Christy._ Where but in my brains should I get it? I could do that much any way, I suppose, though it was not my luck to be edicated at Ferrinafad.

[_Miss GALLAGHER looks back, and sees BIDDY behind her.--Miss GALLAGHER gives her a box on the ear._

_Miss G._ Manners! that's to teach ye.

_Biddy._ Manners!--Where would I larn them--when I was only waiting the right time to ax you what I'd do for a clane pillow-case?

_Miss G._ Why, turn that you have inside out, and no more about it.

_Christy._ And turn yourself out of this, if you plase. (_He turns BIDDY out by the shoulders._) Let me hear you singing _Baltiorum_ in the kitchen, for security that you're not hearing my sacrets. There, she's singing it now, and we're snug;--tell me when she stops, and I'll stop myself.

_Miss G._ Then there's the girl has ceased singing. There's somebody's come in, into the kitchen; may be it's the drum-major. I'll go and see.

[_Exit Miss GALLAGHER._

_CHRISTY, solus._

There she's off now! And I must after her, else she'll spoil her market, and my own. But look ye, now--if I shouldn't find her agreeable to marry this Mr. Gilbert, the man I've laid out for her, why here's a good stick that will bring her to rason in the last resort; for there's no other way of rasoning with Ferrinafad.

[_Exit CHRISTY._

SCENE IV.

_The Garden of the Widow LARKEN'S Cottage._

_OWEN and MABEL._

_Owen._ How does my mother bear the disappointment, Mabel about the inn?

_Mabel._ Then to outward appearance she did not take it so much to heart as I expected she would. But I'm sure she frets inwardly--because she had been in such hopes, and in such spirits, and so proud to think how well her children would all be settled.

_Owen._ Oh, how sorry I am I told her in that hurry the good news I heard, and all to disappoint her afterwards, and break her heart with it!

_Mabel._ No, she has too good a heart to break for the likes. She'll hold up again after the first disappointment--she'll struggle on for our sakes, Owen.

_Owen._ She will: but Mabel dearest, what do you think of Gilbert?

_Mabel._ (_turning away_) I strive not to think of him at all.

_Owen._ But sure I was not wrong there--he told me as much as that he loved you.

_Mabel._ Then he never told me that much.

_Owen._ No! What, not when he walked with you to the well?

_Mabel._ No. What made you think he did?

_Owen._ Why, the words he said about you when he met me, was--where's your sister Mabel? Gone to the well, Gilbert, says I. And do you think a man that has a question to ask her might make bold to step after her?

says he. Such a man as you--why not? says I. Then he stood still, and twirled a rose he held in his hand, and he said nothing, and I no more, till he stooped down, and from the gra.s.s where we stood pulled a sprig of clover. Is not this what _you_ call shamrock? says he. It is, says I.

Then he puts the shamrock along with the rose--How would _that_ do? says he.

_Mabel._ Did he say that, Owen?

_Owen._ Yes, or how would they look together? or, would they do together? or some words that way; I can't be particular to the word--you know, he speaks different from us; but that surely was the sense; and I minded too, he blushed up to the roots, and I pitied him, and answered--

_Mabel._ Oh, what did you answer?

_Owen._ I answered and said, I thought they'd do very well together; and that it was good when the Irish shamrock and the English rose was united.

_Mabel._ (_hiding her face with her hands_) Oh, Owen, that was too plain.

_Owen._ Plain! Not at all--it was not. It's only your tenderness makes you feel it too plain--for, listen to me, Mabel. (_Taking her hand from her face._) Sure, if it had any meaning particular, it's as strong for Miss Gallagher as for any body else.

_Mabel._ That's true:--and may be it was that way he took it,--and may be it was her he was thinking of--

_Owen._ When he asked me for you? But I'll not mislead you--I'll say nothing; for it was a shame he did not speak out, after all the encouragement he got from me.

_Mabel._ Then did he get encouragement from you?

_Owen._ That is--(_smiling_)--taking it the other way, he might understand it so, if he had any conscience. Come now, Mabel, when he went to the well, what did he say to you? for I am sure he said something.

_Mabel._ Then he said nothing--but just put the rose and shamrock into my hand.

_Owen._ Oh! did he?--And what did you say?