“O Cauth, oh, I had such a dhrame, now, in earnest, at any rate!”

“A dhrame!” she repeated, letting go his hand, “a dhrame, Jer Mulcahy! so, afther your good dinner, you go for to fall asleep, Jer Mulcahy, just to be ready wid a new dhrame for me, instead of the work you came out here to do, five blessed hours ago!”

“Don’t scould me, now, Cauth; don’t, a-pet:  only listen to me, an’ then say what you like.  You know the lonesome little glen between the hills, on the short cut for man or horse, to Kilbroggan?  Well, Cauth, there I found myself in the dhrame; and I saw two sailors, tired afther a day’s hard walking, sitting before one of the big rocks that stand upright in the wild place; an’ they were ating or dhrinking, I couldn’t make out which; and one was a tall, sthrong, broad-shouldhered man, an’ the other was sthrong, too, but short an’ burly; an’ while they were talking very civilly to each other, lo an’ behould you, Cauth, I seen the tall man whip his knife into the little man; an’ then they both sthruggled, an’ wrastled, an’ schreeched together, till the rocks rung again; but at last the little man was a corpse; an’ may I never see a sight o’ glory, Cauth, but all this was afore me as plain as you are, in this garden! an’ since the hour I was born, Cauth, I never got such a fright; an’—­oh, Cauth! what’s that now?”

“What is it, you poor fool, you, but a customer, come at last into the kitchen—­an’ time for us to see the face o’ one this blessed day.  Get up out o’ that, wid your dhrames—­don’t you hear ’em knocking?  I’ll stay here to put one vessel at laste to rights—­for I see I must.”

Jeremiah arose, groaning, and entered the cabin through the back door.  In a few seconds he hastened to his wife, more terror-stricken than he had left her, and settling his loins against the low garden wall, stared at her.

“Why, then, duoul’s in you, Jer Mulcahy (saints forgive me for cursing!)—­and what’s the matter wid you, at-all at-all?”

“They’re in the kitchen,” he whispered.

“Well, an’ what will they take?”

“I spoke never a word to them, Cauth, nor they to me;—­I couldn’t—­an’ I won’t, for a duke’s ransom:  I only saw them stannin’ together, in the dark that’s coming on, behind the dour, an’ I knew them at the first look—­the tall one an’ the little one.”

With a flout at his dreams, and his cowardice, and his good-for-nothingness, the dame hurried to serve her customers.  Jeremiah heard her loud voice addressing them, and their hoarse tones answering.  She came out again for two pints to draw some beer, and commanded him to follow her and “discoorse the customers.”  He remained motionless.  She returned in a short time, and fairly drove him before her into the house.