Page 2 of The Irish Gypsy
He chuckled at the picture she had painted.“Sure now, lass, ’twas only a dream.”
“Perhaps not, Jack Kenny. It all seemed asreal as if I were seeing your future. Who knows what lies beyondthe horizon?” she asked breathlessly. He laughed, pleased with thefantasy.
“Well, I must be off,” said Kitty lightly.She skipped away and was halfway over the wall when he called,“Wait! Tell me more, Kitty.”
Her laughter trilled out as she disappearedover the wall.
That night, after their grandfather hadmended the boots, he reached for his fiddle. “No, no, Grandada, nottonight. I’ve things to discuss with Terrance.”
“What’s on your mind, Kitty?” Terryasked.
“Things are bad, Terrance; they’ve never beenthis bad before.” He nodded and waited for her to continue. “We’vebeen in the big house lots of times to look about and nobody’s everbeen the wiser. Why should some have so much and others havenothing?”
“By Jasus that’s what I’d like to know,” heagreed.
“We could slip in and pick out a couple ofsmall objects they’d never even miss and you could take them andsell them,” she suggested.
“Well, I could pinch a ride into Dublin fromsomebody surely now,” he said and grinned.
“The only trouble is, I think the squire’scoming tomorrow, so we have to act first thing in the morning.”
“You’re on, Kitty. I only hope the bloodyweather is foine.”
“Faith, but we’ll have to be mighty careful,Terrance. If we’re caught, it would mean a whipping at the cart’stail, or even transportation.”
“Stop yer blathering, Kitty. They’ve nevercaught us afore!”
The next morning they made their way aroundthe east wing of Castle Hill and climbed a huge sycamore thatreached past the second-story windows. Kitty was thirteen, but shewas so small that she looked only ten. They were both extremelynimble and it took but a few minutes to reach a bedroom window, pryit open and swing over the ledge into the room.
As they stood quietly taking in the richnessof the room, thick carpet caressed Kitty’s feet. They were alertfor the sounds of servants as their eyes swept about the bedroom.The furniture was heavy black oak, polished to a mirror shine. Amagnificent wardrobe stood in one corner with a full-length mirrorupon its door. Kitty was drawn to it. She held out her skirts andcurtsied prettily, then clapped her hand to her mouth before herlaughter came trilling out. Terry climbed onto the big four-posterand gave it a tentative bounce. The walls held valuable paintingsand the desk had a silver inkstand and a jeweled letter opener. Atable beside the bed displayed all manner of small, attractivepieces that caught the eye and made Kitty’s fingers itch to touchthem. She selected a silver chased snuff box and a colorfulpaperweight. Terry opened the little drawer in the table and gaspedas he seized a handful of gold sovereigns. The silence wasshattered.
“What in Christ’s name is going on here? Whothe devil are you?”
Kitty looked up at the man who towered overthem, looking at least seven feet tall. “Patrick John FrancisO’Reilly,” breathed Kitty.
“Himself!” said the squire’s son in a voicethat sounded like thunder. She looked up into blazing blue eyes,arrogant nose and mouth and squared chin, and he gazed down at themost beautiful child he had ever seen. Her hair was a mass of overa thousand black silk ringlets as wild as a blackberry thicket, hermouth was naturally bright red and the wind and rain had given herpatches of scarlet on her high cheekbones. Her eyes were a velvetybrown with double rows of black lashes framing them. She gave Terryone warning glance, which conveyed he was to keep his mouth shutand go along with whatever story she concocted.
“Milord, I shall have to tell you the wholetruth and throw myself on your mercy.” She paused for dramaticeffect, then launched into her tale.
“Me brother Terrance stole this herepaperweight and this snuff box, but faith, ye can’t blame the poorwee man, he hasn’t eaten in two days.”
She let that sink in, then continued, “Whenhe brought them home and showed them to me I said, ’Terrance, ‘tisa wicked thing you’ve done and we must put them back immediately,’and that’s just what we were doing, milord,” she said and curtsied.She noticed a slight twinkle in the bright blue eyes and thought:We are going to get away with it!
“I believe you, but thousands wouldn’t,” saidPatrick O’Reilly.
“What the devil’s going on up here, and whatare these filthy little buggers doing in my house?” a loud voicedemanded.
“The bloody squire!” muttered Kitty. Shemight be able to fob off his son with a glib explanation—after all,he couldn’t be more than twenty—but the bloody squire was adifferent kettle of fish. He was hard, cruel, selfish, with aterrible temper, completely used to having everyone obey himimmediately and without question. He held his riding crop in theair, poised over Kitty, ready to bring it crashing down upon herhead, when she blurted out, “Milord invited us in.”
“You lying little bugger, what in hell wouldhe want with the likes of you?” he demanded harshly.
Kitty gulped, then plunged on, “He said he’dgive me a shilling if I’d pull me drawers down.”
Immediate silence fell like a thunderbolt.Then Patrick threw back his head and roared with laughter. Hisfather turned on him, “By God, I’ve put up with your drinking andgambling and whoring, but by Christ this is child molestation!” Heslashed him with the riding crop. Patrick quickly took the whipfrom him but offered no rebuttal. The squire spluttered, “You’ll goback to England tomorrow. You two get home before I send for theconstable!”
Terry fled, but Kitty gathered her dignityabout her and descended the wide staircase like a duchess. Onlywhen she was outside did her feet take flight. She caught up withTerry and demanded furiously, “Why didn’t you know they arriveddays ago?”
He flashed her a cheeky grin and said,“Jasus, you’re supposed to be the one with the second sight. I justabout shit myself when Patrick O’Reilly caught us. He’s a bigbugger, isn’t he?”
