to make Darby contented and happy. A civiller people than the Good People he never met. At first he couldn’t get over saying, “God save all here” and “God save you kindly,” and things like that, which was like burning them with a hot iron.
If it weren’t for Maureen McGibney, Darby would be in Sleive-na-mon at this hour. Sure she was always the wise girl, ready with her crafty plans and warnings. On a day when they two were sitting alone together she says to him:
“Darby, dear,” says she, “it isn’t right for a dacint man of family to be spending his days cavortin’ and idlin’ and fillin’ the hours with sport and nonsense. We must get you out of here; for what is a sovereign a day to compare with the care and protection of a father?” she says.
“Thrue for ye!” moaned Darby, “and my heart is just splittin’ for a sight of Bridget an’ the childher. Bad luck to the day I set so much store on a dirty, ongrateful, treacherous cow!”
“I know well how you feel,” says Maureen, “for I’d give the world to say three words to Bob Broderick, that ye tell me that out of grief for me he has never kept company with any other girl till this day.
