My good woman," she said, addressing Pugshy, "allow me to
ask, have you been at Mr. Goodwin's?"
Now Pugshy had all the legitimate characteristics of an "unlucky" woman;
red-haired, had a game eye--that is to say, she squinted with one of
them; Pugshy wore a caubeen hat, like a man; had on neither shoe nor
stocking; her huge, brawny arms, uncovered almost to the shoulders,
were brown with freckles, as was her face; so that, altogether, she
would have made a bad substitute either for the Medicean Venus or the
Apollo Belvidere.
"My good woman, allow me to ask if you have been at Mr. Goodwin's."
Pugshy, who knew her well, stood for a moment, and closing the eye with
which she did not squint, kept the game one fixed upon her very steadily
for half a minute, and as she wore the caubeen rather rakishly on one
side of her head, her whole figure and expression were something between
the frightful and the ludicrous.
"Was I at Misther Goodwin's, is it? Lord love you, ma'am, (and ye need
it, _sotto voce_), an' maybe you'd give us a thrifle for the male's
mate; it's hard times wid us this weader.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233