“You ought to keep a dog,” suggested the visitor; “he’d be company.”
“He would so,” agreed Mary. “I’d love to have one.”
“Would you like this fellow?” asked Ulick, indicating a red terrier who had made his way to the fire; “he is only a pup, but he will grow!”
“Oh, sir! oh, yer honour! sure we would not expect the likes of him,” protested Mrs. Foley. “Maybe Boland up at the Chapel has a pup he can spare.”
“No, no, mother,” broke in Mary, “I just hate that breed of Boland’s--they are so long and black and deceiving, and, anyhow, are only good for poaching. They are quiet enough on a weekday, but all over the county of a Sunday. Oh----,” and she paused, “Oh faix, I was forgetting Mr. Ulick!” and she laughed, and coloured vividly.
“I’m glad to hear you don’t like poachers, Mary. This little chap here”--and he held him up--“kills rats already, and will keep off tramps. He is a gentleman.”
“Sure,” began Katty, with a wheezy laugh, “what would a gentleman be doing with the likes of us?”
“He will like you, and I know you will like him. See, Pap”--and he led him over to Mary--“this is your new mistress; and here is another”; and he pulled him towards Katty, who, however, held back, saying--
“Oh, sir, it’s too great a condescension for us; entirely too much!”
“What do you say to him, Mary?” turning to her.
“If when you’ll be going away ye would spare him sir, it would be a kindness and a consolation, for me mother is very wake in herself, and in dread of a night if she hears a sound, even of a mouse, let alone one of the cows stirring in the byre; she thinks it’s some one coming to murder us, so she does. The little dog will be a grand watch, though of course he is above our station.”
“Is any one within?” The voice came from the half-door, and the open space above was amply filled by a stout, elderly woman, wearing a jetted bonnet, a black front, and a blue waterproof.
“There is to be sure,” replied Mary, who liked visitors, darting to the door. “There’s no fear of the dogs, ma’am. I see it’s spilling rain. Come in if ye plase and take a sate.”
The tall, burly figure stalked forward, and shook out her wet umbrella; she stared very hard--first at Katty, then at Ulick--and sank heavily into the proffered chair.