Rescuing Mr. Gracey Read Free Page B

threatening, forced the heavy man to release Lily.
    James’s lack of manners finally awoke Mary’s sleeping temper. Arrogant man! English invader… An Orangeman, no doubt, from his cheap, shameful behavior. Stepping forward, she speared Mr. James with her most insulting glare, then shoved the remaining chunk of cheese back into Mr. Alexander’s hand.
    “We must be going, Lily.” She grabbed her friend’s arm and turned toward the forest. “We’ve been gone too long, and we’ll be missed.”
    “Tarry long enough to finish the cheese,” Mr. Alexander said. Grasping Mary’s hand, he turned it to place the cheese in her palm. An immediate grimace escaped him before he hid his disgusted expression and replaced it with one of concern.
    She knew her tortured palm shocked the man. A month’s worth of working in her da’s field with a broken, splintered spade had infected portions of her palm, leaving it blistered and cut.
    As she clutched the offensive fist behind her back, surprising tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Please excuse us, gentlemen.” She hated the wobble in her voice. Pulling Lily with force, Mary shoved her through the hedge opening.
    “Are ya goin’ t’ the dance dis eve?” Lily called back.
    Astonished at the unexpected invitation, Mary released a small cry. “Lily.”
    “Perhaps we might meet you there,” Mr. Alexander responded.
    “Come along. Now!”
    Dragging the taller girl behind her, Mary was appalled that Lily resisted. “It’s at Dolly’s…”
    Mary pinched Lily so fiercely her friend spewed a loud string of curses. “Lily!” Hauling her companion up the small hill, she dared not say one more word until they reached the bridge. “I canno’ believe ya. How could ya be so familiar? Canno’ ya see those men are no’ our kind? Did ya no’ notice their demeanor?”
    “Oh Lord, ye’ve let yer Irish tongue bounce out.” Lily jerked her arm free. “What in the name of St. Patrick has put ya in such a temper?”
    Mary huffed, her arms pumping. “Those men! Those strangers intended us dishonor. And they’re no’ our kind.”
    “’Cause they’ve a wee bit o’ money? There’s no sin in that.”
    “Who has food in these terrible times?” Mary stomped her foot, then sped up her pace. “Orangemen and English invaders come t’ tumble our homes or spy on our lives or arrest us for trespass, that’s who!”
    “What a lot o’ blarney.” Lily shrugged. “Orangemen ain’t goin’ to share cheese o’ wine neither.”
    “Ahhhh… Lily!” Mary inhaled several deep breaths to regroup toward proper English. As if giving direction to a small child, she spoke slowly. “We can’t trust anyone lest they are known to us as allies. Especially strangers we’ve chanced upon. You have to be cautious for your own safety.”
    “Ye’re too cautious ’cause of yer da…”
    “Shhhh…” Mary looked about, then lowered her voice. “Danger has increased because people of all faiths are trying to return rights to the natives. The Orangemen are mad as hornets this year.”
    Lily held her hands over her ears. “I don’t have book learnin’, but sure an’ I hate it when ya lecture me. I know me own bitter history.”
    Mary whispered, “ Ta spiairi I gach ait .”
    Lily laughed. “Those men are no’ spies.”
    Mary hushed her friend. “Even if that’s not true, did you not hear how Mr. James talked to you?”
    “What do ya mean? Ya talks just as good as da gentlemen when ye’re not in a temper.”
    “No. That’s not my meaning.” Lily’s ignorance exhausted Mary. She tried to rephrase. “Did you not hear Mr. James insult us?”
    “Oh, Mary. If ya look under the rug, ye’re goin’ to find dirt. I say, stop lookin’.”
    Mary sighed, defeated. Lily had never lived with a father who secretly worked to free Catholics from religious and political oppression. Lily did not hear about the arrests and the spies. She did not worry about knocks on the door or