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"The bright and happy she was when I started for Kimberley, too; with her pretty face by the aising stones in the morning, all laughter and mischief. Five years I was seeing it in my drames like that, and now it's gone. Kirry is gone! My Kirry! God help me! O God, have mercy upon me!" He stopped in his unsteady walk, and sat and stared into the fire.
There was a cry for Kate, and she sailed forward buoyantly, fresh still, warm with her work, and looking like the afterglow from the sunset in the lengthening shadows from the west. "Strike them from their legs, Kirry," cried Nancy Joe, and Kate drew up one of the sickles, swept her left arm over the standing corn, and at a single stroke of her right brought the last ears to the ground.
Well, well, Kitty, woman! Aw, Kirry, Kirry! Wherever did she get it, then? Goodsakes, the girl's twisting herself into knots!" Pete was pulling away at the fiddle with both hands, like a bottom sawyer, his eyes dancing, his lips quivering, the whole soul of the lad lifted out of himself in an instant. "Hould on still, Kate, hould on, girl!" he shouted. "Ma-chree! Machree!
Grannie dropped her needles and caught at her apron. "Dear heart alive, the child's herself again!" she said. "Has anything happened?" said Kate. "What time is it?" "Monday morning, bogh, thank the Lord for all His mercies!" cried Grannie. The familiar voice came again. It came from the direction of the stairs. "Who's that?" said Kate, whispering fearfully. "Pete himself, Kirry. Aw well! Aw dear!"
"Is that all?" said Kate. Her heart leapt for joy. She could not help it she laughed. She saw through Philip's excuse. It was only his subterfuge he thought Pete would not marry without him. "Aw, but you never seen the like, though, Kirry," said Pete; "he was that white and wake and narvous. Work and worry, that's the size of it.
Kate agreed to everything. In a weak and toneless voice she kept on telling them to do as they thought hest. Only when she heard that Pete was to pay did she assert her will, and that was to limit the dresses to one. "Sakes alive now, Kirry," cried Nancy, "that's what I call ruining a good husband the man was willing to buy frocks for a boarding-school."
I ran round to put a sight on the poor soul, and why, what's going wrong with the lamp, at all? Is that yourself on the stool, Kirry? Pete, is it? Then where's the mistress?" She plucked up the poker, and dug the fire into a blaze. "What's doing on you, man? You've skinned your knuckles like potato peel. Man, man, what for are you crying, at all?"
Your own little Kirry, and you blackening her! Aw, dear! aw, dear! The bogh! the bogh!" Pete could not go in. He crept back to the cabin in the garden and leaned against it to draw his breath and think. Then he noticed that the dog was on the path with its long tongue hanging over its jaw. It stopped its panting to whine woefully, and then it turned towards the darker part of the garden.
She hardly knew what great change had been wrought in her, and her people at home were puzzled. "Is it not very well you are, Kirry, woman?" said Grannie. "Well enough, mother; why not?" said Kate. "Is it the toothache that's plaguing you?" "No." "Then maybe it's the new hat in the window at Miss Clu-cas's?" "Hould your tongue, woman," whispered Cæsar behind the back of his hand.
"Take it in your hand, woman," said Pete. Nancy cleaned her hands and took the letter, turned it over and felt it in her fingers as if it had been linen. "And this is from Kirry, is it? It's nice, too. I haven't much schooling, Pete, but I'm asking no better than a letter myself. It's like a peppermint in your frock on Sunday if you're low you're always knowing it's there, anyway."
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