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Burnt cork is not lightly to be removed at the first essay, and when, half an hour later, Fanny Fitz, with a pale and dirty face, stood under the dismal light of the lamp outside the Town Hall, waiting for Mr. Gunning's trap, she had the pleasure of hearing a woman among the loiterers say compassionately: "God help her, the crayture! She looks like a servant that'd be bate out with work!" Mr.
"Well, Mike, I'll speak to some of my friends here about you, and we'll settle it all properly. Here's the doctor." "Arrah, Mr. Charles, don't mind him. He's a poor crayture entirely. Devil a thing he knows." "Why, what do you mean, man? He's physician to the forces." "Oh, be-gorra, and so he may be!" said Mike, with a toss of his head. "Those army docthers isn't worth their salt.
Johnny Connolly advanced, still calling upon his God, and the mare uttered a low but vehement neigh. "Ye're deshtroyed, Miss Fanny! And Mr. Gunning, the Lord save us! Ye're killed the two o' ye! What happened ye at all? Woa, gerr'l, woa, gerrlie! Ye'd say she knew me, the crayture."
"`God save Ireland! says she, addressing Terence. `Be yez the docther jintlemen from the hospital, avic? "`Faix, we're that, says my companion; `the pair of us! "`Thin come along, says she. `Mistress Flannagan is dyin' to say you, sure. The soight of yez is good for sore eyes! "`Begorrah! says Terence, `I wouldn't have come at all at all if she hadn't been dyin', the poor crayture!
"Though the vain, silly ould crayture bate Banagher for flirtin' an', indade, bates ivviry other of her sex, God bless 'em, that I've ivver clapt eyes on yet that quare little Frenchy chap, her husband, he, the little sparrow, must neades git jallous, an' makes out it's all my fault, an', belave me, a nice toime I had o' it altogether.
Whatever he did apply, however, had a quieting influence, and presently, after tossing from side to side convulsively, Captain Alphonse closed his great staring eyes and began to snore stertorously. "Heaven be praised!" cried Colonel Vereker. "He's sleeping again, now!" "Faith, an' a good job, too, for him, poor crayture," said Garry.
"Faith, he's still unconshus," replied he, handing him a big revolver with a cartridge belt attached; "ah, sure, I 'spect he'll remain so, too, colonel, till you've had toime to polish off the rest of thim schoindrels we're afther. Indade, it's going off loike that the poor crayture will be, I'm afeard, whin it comes to the ind. I don't think he'll ayther spake or move ag'in in this loife."
Nina had too much of the South in her blood not to like the heartfelt, outspoken admiration which greeted her as she went; and the 'God bless you but you are a lovely crayture! delighted, while it amused her in the way the qualification was expressed. It was soon after sunrise on this Friday morning that she drove down the approach, and made her way across the bog towards Cruhan.
"Now don't cry so much, miss," she said; "didn't I tell you that your grief will do neither you nor him any good? Keep yourself cool and quiet, and spake to him like a raisonable crayture, what you are not, ever since you herd of his being sick.
And 't was a climb for the poor little crayture, but there was days when she'd come down it like a burrd to meet her Pa." Dickie had faltered, white and empty-hearted, before the kindly Irishwoman who remembered so vividly Sheila's downward, winged rush of welcome.
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