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Updated: June 28, 2025
Ould Mother Sheehy sat down of a heap an' began playin' wid the cups. 'Thin you're a well-matched pair, she sez, very thick. 'For he's the biggest rogue that iver spoiled the queen's shoe-leather, an' "'I'm off, Judy, sez I. 'Ye should not talk nonsinse to your mother. Get her to bed, girl. "'Nonsinse! sez the ould woman, prickin' up her ears like a cat an' grippin' the table-edge.
I had a choky sensation in my throat about then, and my breath came a little short; but I managed to get out husky, "Well, toss it over." Westy beams grateful. "Isn't it wonderful?" says he. "I I've got her!" "Eh?" I gasps, grippin' a chair back. "She just told me," says he, "in there. She's she's wearing my ring now." Got me right under the belt buckle, that did.
When I had time to look at that shover man he was a cable's length from high-tide mark, settin' down and grippin' a bunch of beach grass as if he was afeard the sand was goin' to slide from under him; and you never seen a yallerer, more upset critter in your born days. "Well, I got the ark anchored, after a fashion, and then we walked up to the South Ostable tavern.
"Why, you surely ain' thinkin' of you'-self as a hero? She wasn't really a-drowndin', you pie-biter." He rested his serious glance upon the alkali. "She's not likely to have forgot that mix-up, though. I guess I'll not remind her about grippin' me, and all that. She wasn't the kind a man ought to josh about such things. She had a right clear eye."
'Twas hard to make out anythin', for the water was all a white, bilin' churn, and the spray flyin' fit to blind you; but bimeby I co't sight of her comin' swashin' along, now up on top of a big roarer, and then scootin' down into the holler, and then up agin. I crep' out on the rocks, grippin' 'em for all I was wuth, with the boat-hook under my arm.
I could tell that Vee was puzzlin' over the situation by the way she was starin' at the youngster and grippin' her muff. Course you might say we wa'n't any Rescue Mission, or anything like that; but somehow this was diff'rent. Here was Helma, right in front of us! And I'm free to admit the proposition was too much for me. "Gee!" says I. "Handed out rough sometimes, ain't it?
"You mustn't hold me responsible for your judgment, good or bad." "No, I reckon not, but say, young fellow, do you happen to have a chaw of terbacker in your clothes?" "If I had any I'd offer it to you, but I never chew." The man sighed. "Well, mebbe it's a bad habit," he said, "but it's powerful grippin'. I'd give a heap for a good twist of old Kentucky.
She's squeezed into the end seat behind the door, and was huddled up there, grippin' a little black travelin' bag in one hand and a rusty umbrella in the other, and keepin' her eyes on the floor, for all the world like she'd run away from somewhere and was stealin' a ride. Get it, do you? But wait! There was one point where Lindy had it on most of us.
"Lord love you, McCabe!" says Larry, grippin' me by the arm, "but who was that?" "In the car?" says I. "No one but Mrs. Sam Steele." "Mrs., did you say?" says he. "The rich widow," says I, "that lives in the big house over on the Shore Drive." I pointed it out. "A widow!" says he. "Thanks be! Shorty, she's the one!" "Not your Miss McDevitt?" says I. "No other," says he. "I'd swear it!"
"Helma's been talkin'!" "She's a chatty youngster," says I, "and she thinks a heap of her Daddums. I ain't sure, though, whether you come first or Arabella." If I hadn't been watchin' for it, I might not have noticed, but the quiver that begins in the fingers grippin' the bars runs clear up to the sagged shoulders. His mouth twitches nervous, and then he gets hold of himself.
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