Bold Words At The Bridge
by
I.
“‘Well, now,’ says I, ‘Mrs. Con’ly,’ says I, ‘how ever you may tark, ’tis nobody’s business and I wanting to plant a few pumpkins for me cow in among me cabbages. I ‘ve got the right to plant whatever I may choose, if it’s the divil of a crop of t’istles in the middle of me ground.’ ‘No ma’am, you ain’t,’ says Biddy Con’ly; ‘you ain’t got anny right to plant t’istles that’s not for the public good,’ says she; and I being so hasty wit’ me timper, I shuk me fist in her face then, and herself shuk her fist at me. Just then Father Brady come by, as luck ardered, an’ recomminded us would we keep the peace. He knew well I ‘d had my provocation; ‘t was to herself he spoke first. You’d think she owned the whole corporation. I wished I ‘d t’rown her over into the wather, so I did, before he come by at all. ‘T was on the bridge the two of us were. I was stepping home by meself very quiet in the afthernoon to put me tay-kittle on for supper, and herself overtook me,–ain’t she the bold thing!
“‘How are you the day, Mrs. Dunl’avy?’ says she, so mincin’ an’ preenin’, and I knew well she ‘d put her mind on having words wit’ me from that minute. I ‘m one that likes to have peace in the neighborhood, if it wa’n’t for the likes of her, that makes the top of me head lift and clat’ wit’ rage like a pot-lid!”
“What was the matter with the two of you?” asked a listener, with simple interest.
“Faix indeed, ‘t was herself had a thrifle of melons planted the other side of the fince,” acknowledged Mrs. Dunleavy. “She said the pumpkins would be the ruin of them intirely. I says, and ’twas thrue for me, that I ‘d me pumpkins planted the week before she’d dropped anny old melon seed into the ground, and the same bein’ already dwining from so manny bugs. Oh, but she ‘s blackhearted to give me the lie about it, and say those poor things was all up, and she ‘d thrown lime on ’em to keep away their inemies when she first see me come out betune me cabbage rows. How well she knew what I might be doing! Me cabbages grows far apart and I ‘d plinty of room, and if a pumpkin vine gets attention you can entice it wherever you pl’ase and it’ll grow fine and long, while the poor cabbages ates and grows fat and round, and no harm to annybody, but she must pick a quarrel with a quiet ‘oman in the face of every one.
“We were on the bridge, don’t you see, and plinty was passing by with their grins, and loitering and stopping afther they were behind her back to hear what was going on betune us. Annybody does be liking to got the sound of loud talk an’ they having nothing better to do. Biddy Con’ly, seeing she was well watched, got the airs of a pr’acher, and set down whatever she might happen to be carrying and tried would she get the better of me for the sake of their admiration. Oh, but wa’n’t she all drabbled and wet from the roads, and the world knows meself for a very tidy walker!
“‘Clane the mud from your shoes if you ‘re going to dance;’ ‘t was all I said to her, and she being that mad she did be stepping up and down like an old turkey-hin, and shaking her fist all the time at me. ‘Coom now, Biddy,’ says I, ‘what put you out so?’ says I. ‘Sure, it creeps me skin when I looks at you! Is the pig dead,’ says I, ‘or anny little thing happened to you, ma’am? Sure this is far beyond the rights of a few pumpkin seeds that has just cleared the ground!’ and all the folks laughed. I ‘d no call to have tark with Biddy Con’ly before them idle b’ys and gerrls, nor to let the two of us become their laughing-stock. I tuk up me basket, being ashamed then, and I meant to go away, mad as I was. ‘Coom, Mrs. Con’ly!’ says I, ‘let bygones be bygones; what’s all this whillalu we ‘re afther having about nothing?’ says I very pleasant.