"Ah," he cried, gazing with dilated nostrils at the trembling object
beneath the covers, "there you are, mum," and he shook his fist above
what he believed to be the cowardly Mrs. Hardy. "'Tis well ye may cover
up your head," said he, "for shame on yez! Me wife may take in washing,
but when I comes home at night I wants me kids, and I'll be after havin'
'em too. Where ar' they?" he demanded. Then getting no response from the
agitated covers, he glanced wildly about the room. "Glory be to God!"
he exclaimed as his eyes fell on the crib; but he stopped short in
astonishment, when upon peering into it, he found not one, or two, but
three "barren."
"They're child stalers, that's what they are," he declared to Maggie,
as he snatched Bridget and Norah to his no doubt comforting breast. "Me
little Biddy," he crooned over his much coveted possession. "Me little
Norah," he added fondly, looking down at his second. The thought of his
narrow escape from losing these irreplaceable treasures rekindled
his wrath. Again he strode toward the bed and looked down at the now
semi-quiet comforter.
"The black heart of ye, mum," he roared, then ordering Maggie to give
back "every penny of that shameless creetur's money" he turned toward
the door.
So intense had been O'Flarety's excitement and so engrossed was he in
his denunciation that he had failed to see the wild-eyed Italian woman
rushing toward him from the opposite door.
"You, you!" cried the frenzied woman and, to O'Flarety's astonishment,
she laid two strong hands upon his arm and drew him round until he faced
her. "Where are you going with my baby?" she asked, then peering into
the face of the infant nearest to her, she uttered a disappointed
moan. "'Tis not my baby!" she cried. She scanned the face of the second
infant--again she moaned.
Having begun to identify this hysterical creature as the possible mother
of the third infant, O'Flarety jerked his head in the direction of the
cradle.
"I guess you'll find what you're lookin' for in there," he said. Then
bidding Maggie to "git along out o' this" and shrugging his shoulders
to convey his contempt for the fugitive beneath the coverlet, he swept
quickly from the room.
Clasping her long-sought darling to her heart and weeping with delight,
the Italian mother was about to follow O'Flarety through the door when
Zoie staggered into the room, weak and exhausted.