Part 19 (2/2)
”Oh, I'll tell you a story, Patsy. I'll come into the house to-night and sing for you.”
”No, sing,” said the little lad imperiously, and so the girl began to sing the thrilling love story of The Frog and The Mouse, till not only was Patsy's pale face wreathed in smiles, but the other children were drawn in an enchanted circle about the singer. So entranced were the children and so interested the singer that they failed to notice the door of the Stopping Place open. A slovenly woman showed a hard face and dishevelled hair for a moment at the door, and then stole quietly away. In a few moments she returned, bringing her husband, a huge man with a s.h.a.ggy, black head and repulsive face.
”Jist be afther lookin' at that now, will ye, Carroll!” she said.
As the man looked his face changed as the sun breaks through a storm-cloud.
”Did ye iver see the loikes av that?” she said in a low voice. ”She'd draw the badgers out av their holes with thim songs av hers. And thim little divils have been all the mornin' a-fightin' and a-sc.r.a.ppin'
loike Kilkenny cats.”
”An' look at Patsy,” said her husband, with wonder and pity in his eyes.
”Yis, ye may say that, for it's the cantankerous little curmudgeon he is, poor little manny.”
”Cantankerous!” echoed her husband. ”It's that blank pain av his.”
”Whist now, Tim. There's Thim that'll be hearin' ye, an' it'll be the worse f'r him an' f'r you, beloike.”
”Divil a fear have Oi av Thim,” said her sceptical husband scornfully.
”Aw, now, do be quiet, now,” said his wife, crossing herself. ”Sure, prayin' is jist as aisy as cursin', and no harrum done, at all.” She shut the door.
”Aw, it's the beautiful singer she is,” as the girl struck up a new song. ”Listen to that now.”
Full, clear, soft, like the warbling of the thrush at evening, came the voice through the closed door. The man and his wife stood listening with a rapt look on their faces.
”Phat in Hivin's name is she singin', at all?” said Mrs. Carroll.
”Whisht!” said her husband, holding up his hand. ”It's like a wild burrd,” he added, after listening a few moments.
”The pore thing. An' it's loike a wild burrd she is,” said Mrs. Carroll pityingly. ”Left alone so soon afther comin' to this sthrange counthry.
It's a useless man altogether, is that ould Prospector.”
Carroll's face darkened.
”Useless!” he exclaimed wrathfully, ”he's a blank ould fool, crazy as a jack rabbit! An' Oi'm another blank fool to put any money into 'im.”
”Did ye put much in, Tim?” ventured Mrs. Carroll.
”Too much to be thrown away, anyhow.”
”Thin, why does ye do it, Tim?”
”Blanked if Oi know. It's the smooth, slippin' tongue av 'im. He'd talk the tale aff a monkey, so he would.”
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