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Updated: June 17, 2025
Ah, Misther Garon, pity a poor woman that has to live wid the loikes o' that!" The Avocat still did not speak. He turned his face away and looked out of the window, where his eyes could see the little house on the hill, which to-day had the Union Jack flying in honour of some battle or victory, dear to Kilquhanity's heart.
Kilquhanity's eyes closed and opened again. "They're gone, thin! Oh, the foine of it, the foine of it!" he whispered. "So quiet, so aisy, so quiet! Faith, I'll just be shlaping! I'll be shlaping now." His eyes closed, but the Cure touched his arm again. "My son," said he, "look up. Do you thoroughly and earnestly repent you of your sins?" His eyes opened again. "Yis, father, oh yis!
He knocked again more loudly, and still no answer. He opened the door and entered into a clean, warm living-room, so hot that the heat came to him in waves, buffeting his face. Dining, sitting, and drawing-room, it was also a sort of winter kitchen; and side by side with relics of Kilquhanity's soldier-life were clean, bright tins, black saucepans, strings of dried fruit, and well- cured hams.
A dozen hands stretched out to give Kilquhanity a drink, for even the best story-teller of Pontiac could not have told his tale so well. Yet the success achieved by Kilquhanity at such moments was discounted through long months of mingled suspicion and doubtful tolerance. The Cure spoke to Kilquhanity's wife about it, and she said she could do nothing with her husband.
Kilquhanity's eyes closed, and he buried one side of his head in the pillow, that her shrill voice should not pierce his ears. "The Little Chemist 'll be comin' in a minit, dear Misther Garon," said the wife presently, and she began to fuss with the bedclothes and to be nervously and uselessly busy. "Aw, lave thim alone, darlin'," whispered Kilquhanity, tossing.
Kilquhanity had sworn, with an oath that took no account of the Cure's presence, that not a stick nor a stone nor a rag nor a penny should that Irish slattern have of Matthew Kilquhanity's! The Cure and the Avocat had quieted them at last, and the Cure spoke sternly now to both women. "In the presence of death," said he, "have done with your sinful clatter. Stop quarrelling over a dying man.
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