This was said in an injured tone, as if the heart under the bed-clothes
were softer than the voice.

'I didn't mean to say you were angry, only I thought--'

'You thought what?'

'Well, my dear, I have only just been across to the barn.' This was
uttered timidly and pleadingly, and as if our good housewife knew she
had been doing wrong.

Suddenly, a large red face started up from amongst the bed-clothes,
ornamented with a peculiarly-shaped white cap and tassel.

'Now you haven't been after them Irishers again?' exclaimed the owner
of the red face. 'The idle vagabonds! I vow to goodness that all our
money, and food and clothing, too, I believe, go to feed a set of
good-for-nothing, ragged rascals.'

'Hush, Davy! Remember they are God's creatures, and this is Sunday.'

'I don't know that. And if it's Sunday, why mayn't I sleep in peace?'

'Indeed, I am very sorry. But that poor girl I told you of is so ill!'

'Hang the poor girl! Then send her to the workhouse, and they'll give
her a lift home.'

'But if she has no home?'