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Yesterday itself she had cooked him a chicken as good as I could get at
the Big House; "done to a turn, too, with a nice bit of Irish bacon on
top, and a bowl of praties biled in their jackets and a basin of
beautiful new buttermilk;" but no, never a taste nor a sup did he take
of it.
"It's just timpting Providence his reverence is, and it'll be glory to
God if you'll tell him so."
"What's that you're saying about his reverence, Mrs. Cassidy?" cried
Father Dan from the upper landing.
"I'm saying you're destroying yourself with your fasting and praying and
your midnight calls at mountain cabins, and never a ha'porth of anything
in your stomach to do it on."
"Whisht then, Mrs. Cassidy, it's tay-time, isn't it? So just step back
to your kitchen and put on your kittle, and bring up two of your best
china cups and saucers, and a nice piece of buttered toast, not
forgetting a thimbleful of something neat, and then it's the mighty
proud woman ye'll be entoirely to be waiting for once on the first lady
in the island.


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