Treenail flitting backwards and forwards across
the doorway, in the rain, his pale face and his sharp nose, with the
sparkling drop at the end on't, glancing in the light of the lamp. I
heard a step within, and a very pretty face now appeared at the wicket.
"Who are you saking here, an' please ye?"
"No one in particular, my dear; but if you don't let me in, I shall be
lodged in jail before five minutes be over."
"I can't help that, young man," said she; "but where are ye from,
darling!"
"Hush--I am run from the _Guava_, now lying at the Cove."
"Oh," said my beauty, "come in"; and she opened the door, but still
kept it on the chain in such a way, that although, by bobbing, I
creeped and slid in beneath it, yet a common-sized man could not
possibly have squeezed himself through. The instant I entered, the
door was once more banged to, and the next moment I was ushered into
the kitchen, a room about fourteen feet square, with a well-sanded
floor, a huge dresser on one side, and over against it a respectable
show of pewter dishes in racks against the wall. There was a long
stripe of a deal table in the middle of the room--but no tablecloth--at
the bottom of which sat a large, bloated, brandy, or rather whisky
faced savage, dressed in a shabby greatcoat of the hodden grey worn by
the Irish peasantry, dirty swandown vest, and greasy corduroy breeches,
worsted stockings, and well-patched shoes; he was smoking a long pipe.
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