Dermot marched up. When he was getting near Shiana's house he heard the work going on as hard as if all the world were in want of shoes and there was nobody to make them but Shiana and his men.
He walked in to where they were.
"God save all here!" said he.
"God and Mary to you!" said Shiana.
"Well now indeed, Dermot," said one of the men, "it is high time for you. There are pains in my eyes from looking sideways down that pathway for the past week, thinking from time to time that I would see you coming."
"That's a funny thing," said Dermot, "when I have pains in my eyes and in my shoulder from standing in the doorway with my shoulder to the doorpost, so that a crow couldn't come down over the rise in the road unknown to me, and every man that came into my sight I was quite sure it must be Shiana, until he came close to me."
"I!" said Shiana.
"You, to be sure!" said Dermot. "Isn't it in the mouth of the three congregations that you and my Sive are to be married next Tuesday? And don't you think it's right for me to expect that there should be some little talk between us before Tuesday comes?"
"You are mistaken, Dermot," said one of the men.
"It is not to your Sive he is to be married, but to 'Short Mary,' John Kittach's[1] daughter, to the west; and by the same token, John has gone off to Cork to get a supply of provisions and drinks for the wedding. And I fancy his relatives have been invited for Tuesday."
- ↑ ceataċ, left-handed.
