Beside her tumulus of trunk, bag, bundle little Polly stood desolate, with drooping shoulders; and cursing his want of foresight, Mahony all but drove into the gatepost, which occasioned a loud guffaw.

Nor had Long Jim turned up as ordered, to shoulder the heavy luggage.

These blunders made Mahony very hot and curt.

Having himself stowed the things inside the bar and borrowed a lantern, he drew his wife's arm through his, and hurried her away.
It was pitch-dark, and the ground was wet and squelchy.

Their feet sank in the mud.