in the door, her two fists on her hips, an’ her lips shut.
The look Julius Sayser’d trow at a servant-girl he’d caught stealing sugar from the rile cupboard was the glance she waved up and down from Darby’s toes to his head, and from his head to his brogues agin.
Thin she began an’ talked steady as a fall of hail that has now an’ then a bit of lightning an’ tunder mixed in it.
The knowledgeable man stood purtendin’ to brush his hat and tryin’ to look brave, but the heart inside of him was meltin’ like butther.
Bridget began aisily be carelessly mentioning a few of Darby’s best known wakenesses. Afther that she took up some of them not so well known, being ones Darby himself had sayrious doubts about having at all. But on these last she was more savare than on the first. Through it all he daren’t say a word—he only smiled lofty and bitther.
’Twas but natural next for Bridget to explain what a poor crachure her husband was the day she got him, an’ what she might have been if she had married ayther one of the six others who had axed her. The
