AN IRISH CHATELAINE 



mind, I'll ring the bell. Green ! Green, Johnny Green, 

 are ye there? Is Mrs. Green there? Is Patsy there? 

 Where's young Condren ? Ah, they're all out ! But I'll 

 not be beaten. Maybe I'll get it open. Will ye push, 

 now? I'll turn the handle. Give a good shove. It's 

 an old lock. Ah, devil a bit of it ! Will ye give me your 

 stick. No, thank ye. I'd rather hit it meself." 

 Even to her it was impossible to continue talking, while 

 she was, as she herself would have expressed it, " laying 

 on to the garden door." Scarlet, panting, dishevelled, but 

 still completely fascinating, she desisted at last and handed 

 back the stick with a smile and gasp, and a resigned: 

 " Ah, I clean forgot, I see how it is now. They're all off 

 to the funeral of the priest's brother's sister." 



275 



