gathered up her narrow shoulders, "Aw, go they did."
"Good girl, Anne," said I, and slapped my leg; "my roarin' girl. Aw, an' go they did, Judy; go they did."
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"Would ye be kindly handin' her that, wi' Mrs. Breen's compliments?"
"Well, hearts alive," Anne went on, "Wednesday evenin' comes at last, an' sharp to five o'clock up me brave Jane Flaherty steps along the lane, crosses the yard, an', mindin' her manners, knocks twice on Hannah's back dure, then turns, an', wi' the dog yelpin' at her, an' the gander hissin' like a wet stick on a fire, waits like a beggar-woman on the step. But divil a one comes to the dure; aw, not a one. An' sorrow a soul budged inside; aw, not a soul. So round turns Jane, lifts her fists again, hits the dure three thunderin' bangs, an' looks another while at the gander. Not a budge in the dure, not a move inside; so Jane, not to be done out of her tay, lifts the latch—an', sure as the sun was shinin', but the bolt was shot inside. 'Well, dang me,' says Jane, an' hits the dure a kick, 'but this is a fine way to treat company,' says she, an' rattles the latch, an' shakes it; at last, in the divil of a temper, spits on the step, whips up her skirt, an', cursin' Hannah high up an' low down, starts for home.
"She got as far as the bend in the lane, an' there meets Mary Dolan.
"'What's up?' axes Mary. 'What's floostered ye, Jane Flaherty? Aren't ye goin' to have your tay, me dear?' says Mary.
"'Aw, may the first sup she swalleys choke the breath in her,' shouts Jane, an' goes on to tell her story, an' before she'd said ten words up comes Sally Hogan.
"'Am I too late?' says Sally. 'Or am I too early? ' says she. 'Or what in glory ails the two o' ye?'
"'Ails?' shouts Jane. 'Ye may well say that, Sally Hogan. Ye may turn on your heel,' says she; an' begins her story again; an' before she was half way through it Sally laughs out, and takes Jane by the arm, an' starts back to the house.
"'Come away,' says she; 'come away an' have your tay, Jane. Sure, ye don't know Hannah yet.'
"So back the three goes then; but not through the yard. Aw, no. 'Twas through the wee green gate, an' down the walk, an' slap up to the hall dure Sally takes them; an' sure enough the first dab on the knocker brings a fut on the flags inside, an' there's Kitty, the servant-girl, in her boots an' her stockin's and her Sunday dress, an' a white apron on her, standin' before them.
"'Aw, an' is that you, Kitty Malone?' says Sally. 'An' how's yourself, Kitty, me dear? An' wid Mrs. Breen be inside?' says she.
"'She is so, Mrs. Hogan,' answers Kitty, an' bobs a kind of a courtesy. 'Wid ye all be steppin' in, please?'
"'Aw, the Lord's sake,' gasps Sally, on the durestep, at all this grandeur; 'the Lord's sake,' says she, an' steps into the hall; an' in steps Mary Dolan; an' in steps Jane Flaherty; an' away the three o' them, goes' at Kitty's heels up to the parlor. Aw, heavenly hour," cried Anne, and turned up her eyes. "Aw, childer, dear!"
"Te-he!" giggled Judy, and hoisted her shoulders. "Aw, te-he!"
