"An' I won't be long dyin'!" another screech; "an' it won't take
many to carry me to Cunnock-a-Ceoil Churchyard!"
A final and prolonged burst of mirth succeeded this announcement,
during which the unrepentant Three and Fourpence swung the pail on to
the hook of the swinging-balance for weighing the milk that was Miss
Coppinger's latest and most detested innovation.
"Look at that now what she has for you, Miss! Shixteen pints! An' I'll
engage I'll knock thirteen ounces o' butther out of it! That's the
little bracket cow that yourself and Johnny Galvin wanted to sell, an'
I withstood ye!"
This was of the nature, jointly, of a counter-attack and of a truckle
to the system of milk-records, but Frederica heeded it not As a matter
of fact, she was still somewhat discomposed by the insinuations that
were more numerous than the pennies she was believed to possess.
"I hope, Mary," she said, repressively, "that if you should hear any
more talk of that kind about Dr. Mangan, you will do your best to
contradict it. He has been extremely kind to Master Larry, and it
annoys me very much that such things should be said."
Mrs. Twomey's supple mind was swift to realise that a change of
attitude was advisable.
"Why then, upon my truth and body, I'd blame no one that wanted Master
Larry! That little fella is in tune with all the world!" she declared;
"but those people do be always gibbing and gabbing! Give them a smell,
and they're that suspeecious they'll do the rest! Sure I said to that
owld man below, Mikey Twomey"--thus dispassionately was Mrs.
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