"If that divil, Tom Durfy, sees me, he'll tell it all over the country, he's such a quiz; shove yourself well before the door there, Biddy, that he can't peep into the car. Oh, why did I come out this day!--I wish your tongue was cut out, Biddy, that asked me!"
In the meantime Tom Durfy closed on them fast, and began telegraphing Biddy, who, according to the widow's desire, had shoved herself well before the door.
"Pull up, Tim, pull up!" said the widow, from the inside of the car, to the driver, whom she thumped on the back at the same time to impress upon him her meaning; "turn about, and pretend to drive back. We'll let that fellow ride on," said she, quietly to Biddy.
Just as this manoeuvre was executed, up came Tom Durfy.
"How are you, Miss Riley?" said he, as he drew rein.
"Pretty well, thank you," said Biddy, putting her head and shoulders through the window, while the widow shrunk back into the corner of the car.
"How very sudden poor Mr. Flanagan's death was!--I was quite surprised."
"Yes, indeed," says Biddy. "I was just taking a little drive; good bye."
"I was very much shocked to hear of it," said Tom.
"As well as can be expected, poor thing! Good bye!" said Biddy, manifestly anxious to cut short the conference.
This anxiety was so obvious to Tom, who, for the sake of fun, loved cross-purposes dearly, that he determined to push his conversation further, just because he saw it was unwelcome.
"To be sure," continued he, "at his time of life----"
"And the season has been very unhealthy."
"Doctor Growling told me so yesterday," said Biddy; "I wonder you're not afraid of stopping in this east wind--colds are very prevalent. Good bye!"
Just now the Genius of Farce, who presides so particularly over all Irish affairs, put it into the lamb's head to bleat. The sound at first did not strike Tom Durfy as singular, they being near a high hedge, within which it was likely enough a lamb might bleat; but Biddy, shocked at the thought of being discovered in the fact of making her jaunting-cart a market-cart, reddened up to the eyes, while the widow squeezed herself closer into the corner.
Tom, seeing the increasing embarrassment of Biddy, and her desire to be off, still _would_ talk to her, for the love of mischief.