’Dinah Shadd niver said word to Judy.  “Ye left me at half-past eight,” she sez to me, “an I niver thought that ye’d leave me for Judy,—­ promises or no promises.  Go back wid her, you that have to be fetched by a girl!  I’m done with you,” sez she, and she ran into her own room, her mother followin’.  So I was alone wid those two women and at liberty to spake my sentiments.

’"Judy Sheehy,” sez I, “if you made a fool av me betune the lights you shall not do ut in the day.  I niver promised you words or lines.”

‘"You lie,” sez ould Mother Sheehy, “an’ may ut choke you where you stand!” She was far gone in dhrink.

‘"An’ tho’ ut choked me where I stud I’d not change,” sez I.  “Go home, Judy.  I take shame for a decent girl like you dhraggin’ your mother out bare-headed on this errand.  Hear now, and have ut for an answer.  I gave my word to Dinah Shadd yesterday, an’, more blame to me, I was wid you last night talkin’ nonsinse but nothin’ more.  You’ve chosen to thry to hould me on ut.  I will not be held thereby for anythin’ in the world.  Is that enough?”

‘Judy wint pink all over.  “An’ I wish you joy av the perjury,” sez she, duckin’ a curtsey.  “You’ve lost a woman that would ha’ wore her hand to the bone for your pleasure; an’ ’deed, Terence, ye were not thrapped...”  Lascelles must ha’ spoken plain to her.  “I am such as Dinah is—­’deed I am!  Ye’ve lost a fool av a girl that’ll niver look at you again, an’ ye’ve lost what he niver had,—­your common honesty.  If you manage your men as you manage your love-makin’, small wondher they call you the worst corp’ril in the comp’ny.  Come away, mother,” sez she.

’But divil a fut would the ould woman budge!  “D’you hould by that?” sez she, peerin’ up under her thick gray eyebrows.

‘"Ay, an’ wud,” sez I, “tho’ Dinah give me the go twinty times.  I’ll have no thruck with you or yours,” sez I.  “Take your child away, ye shameless woman.”

“‘An’ am I shameless?” sez she, bringin’ her hands up above her head.  “Thin what are you, ye lyin’, schamin’, weak-kneed, dhirty-souled son av a sutler?  Am I shameless?  Who put the open shame on me an’ my child that we shud go beggin’ through the lines in the broad daylight for the broken word of a man?  Double portion of my shame be on you, Terence Mulvaney, that think yourself so strong!  By Mary and the saints, by blood and water an’ by ivry sorrow that came into the world since the beginnin’, the black blight fall on you and yours, so that you may niver be free from pain for another when ut’s not your own!  May your heart bleed in your breast drop by drop wid all your friends laughin’ at the bleedin’!  Strong you think yourself?  May your strength be a curse to you to dhrive you into the divil’s hands against your own will!  Clear-eyed you are?  May your eyes see clear ivry step av the dark path you take till the hot cindhers av hell put thim out!  May the ragin’ dry thirst in my own ould bones