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"Take a dandther down toward th' church," he said, "an' then come back." Willie entered the house in an apparently breathless condition. "Yer takin' it purty aisy here," he said, "whin 'Jowler' Hainey's killin' his wife an' wreckin' th' house!" In about two minutes he was alone. He put a coal in his pipe and smoked for a minute. Then he went over to the little coffin.
I slept at Jamie Wallace's that night, and next morning took the "dandther" with Withero up the Dublin road, past "The Mount of Temptation" to the old stone-pile that was no longer a pile, but a hole in the side of the road. It was a sentimental journey that gave Willie a chance to say some things I knew he wanted to say. "D'ye mind the pirta sack throusers Anna made ye onct?"
"Because we live three thousand miles apart." "Aye, well, shure that 'ud be quite a dandther!" "It didn't take ye long t' git a fortune, did it?" another asked. "I never acquired a fortune such as you are thinking of." "Anna said ye wor rich!" "Anna was right, I am rich, but I was the richest boy in Antrim when I lived here." They looked dumbfounded. "How's that?" Mrs. Conner queried.
Anna was silent, but there were tears, and as I held her in my arms and kissed them away Jamie was saying to Withero: "Ye might take 'im fur a dandther out where ye broke whin we first met ye, Willie!" "Aye," Willie said, "I'm m' own gaffer, I will that."
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