Hut, tut,--no!"
As the sterling fellow spoke, the cheeks of the widow were suffused with
tears, and her son Jemmy's hollow eyes once more kindled, but with a far
different expression from that which but a few minutes before flashed
from them.
"Owen," said he, and utterance nearly failed him: "Owen, if I was well
it wouldn't be as it is wid us; but--no, indeed it would not; but--may
God bless you for this! Owen, never fear but you'll be paid; may God
bless you, Owen!"
As he spoke the hand of his humble benefactor was warmly grasped in his.
A tear fell upon it: for with one of those quick and fervid transitions
of feeling so peculiar to the people, he now felt a strong, generous
emotion of gratitude, mingled, perhaps, with a sense of wounded pride,
on finding the poverty of their little family so openly exposed.
"Hut, tut, Jimmy, avick," said Owen, who understood his feelings; "phoo,
man alive! hut--hem!--why, sure it's nothin' at all, at all; anybody
would do it--only a bare five an' twenty shillins [it was five pound]:
any neighbor--Mick Cassidy, Jack Moran, or Pether M'Cullagh, would do
it.--Come, Frank, step out; the money's to the fore. Rosha, put
your cloak about you, and let us go down to the agint, or clerk, or
whatsomever he is--sure, that makes no maxin anyhow;--I suppose he
has power to give a resate.
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