ld needs more than
another it's an undisputed text. Couldn't ye find us wan, Misther
Johnson?"

"All texts are disputed," he said, "but there are texts not in dispute."

"I think I could name wan at laste, Mister Johnson."

"Maybe."

"'Deed no, not maybe at all, but _sure-be_. Jamie dear, get m' th' Bible
if ye plaze."

While Jamie got the Bible she wiped her glasses and complained in a
gentle voice about the "mortal pity of it" that texts were pins for
Christians to stick in each other's flesh.

"Here it is," she said, "'Th' poor ye haave always with ye.'"

"Aye," Sam said, "an' how true it is."

"'Deed it's true, but who did He mane by 'ye'?"

"Th' world, I suppose."

"Not all th' world, by a spoonful, but a wheen of thim like Sandy
Somerville, who's got a signboard in front of his back that tells he
ates too much while the rest of us haave backbones that could as aisily
be felt before as behine!"

"So that's what you call an _undisputed_ text?"

She looked over the rim of her spectacles at him for a moment in
silence, and then said, slowly:

"Ochane--w-e-l-l--tell Mister Gwynn t' read what he likes, it'll mane
th' same aanyway."

Kitty Coyle came in. Henry and she were engaged. They had known each
other since childhood. Her eyes were red with weeping. Henry's mother
led her by the arm.

"Anna, dear," Eliza said, "she needs ye as much as me. Give 'er a bit ov
comfort."

They went into the little bedroom and the door was shut. Jamie stood as
sentry.

When they came out young Johnny Murdock, Henry's chum, was sitting on
Jamie's workbench.

"I want ye t' take good care of Kitty th' night, Johnny. Keep close t'
'er and when th' moon comes out take 'er down the garden t' get fresh
air. It'll be stuffy wi' all th' people an' the corpse in Lecky's."

"Aye," he said, "I'll do all I can." To Kitty she said, "I've asked
Johnny t' keep gey close t' ye till it's all over, Kitty. Ye'll
understand."

"Aye," Kitty said, "Henry loved 'im more'n aany maan on th' Lough!"

"Had tay yit?" Willie Withero asked as he blundered in on the scene.

"No, Willie, 'deed we haaven't thought ov it!"

"Well, t' haave yer bowels think yer throat's cut isn't sauncy!" he
said.

The fire was low and the kettle cold.

"Here, Johnny," Withero said, "jist run over t' Farren's for a ha'p'orth
ov turf an' we'll haave a cup o' tay fur these folks who're workin'
overtime palaverin' about th' dead! Moses alive, wan corpse is e