And Betty and Moggy, at their wits' end between terror and bewilderment, were altogether powerless to resist, and could only whimper a protest against the monstrous invasion, while poor little Sally Nutter up stairs, roused by the wild chorus of strange voices from the lethargy of her grief, and even spurred into active alarm, locked her door, and then hammered with a chair upon the floor, under a maniacal hallucination that she was calling I know not what or whom to the rescue.
Then Dirty Davy read aloud, with due emphasis, to the maids, copies, as he stated, of the affidavits sworn to that day by Mistress Mary Matchwell, or as he called her, Mrs.Nutter, relict of the late Charles Nutter, gentleman, of the Mills, in the parish of Chapelizod, barony of Castleknock, and county of Dublin, deposing to her marriage with the said Charles Nutter having been celebrated in the Church of St.Clement Danes, in London, on the 7th of April, 1750.

And then came a copy of the marriage certificate, and then a statement how, believing that deceased had left no 'will' making any disposition of his property, or naming an executor, she applied to the Court of Prerogative for letters of administration to the deceased, which letters would be granted in a few days; and in the meantime the bereaved lady would remain in possession of the house and chattels of her late husband.
All this, of course, was so much 'Hebrew-Greek,' as honest Father Roach was wont to phrase it, to the scared women.

But M.M .-- [Greek: nykti eoikost]--fixing them both with her cold and terrible gaze, said quite intelligibly-- 'What's your name ?' 'Moggy Sullivan, if you please, Ma'am.' 'And what's yours ?' 'Lizabet--Betty they call me--Madam; Lizabet Burke, if you please, Madam.' 'Well, then, Moggy Sullivan and Elizabeth Burke, harkee both, while I tell you a thing.

I'm mistress here by law, as you've just heard, and you're my servants; and if you so much as wind the jack or move a tea-cup, except as I tell you, I'll find a way to punish you; and if I miss to the value of a pin's head, I'll indict you for a felony, and have you whipped and burnt in the hand--you know what that means.

And now, where's Mistress Sarah Harty?
for she must pack and away.' 'Oh! Ma'am, jewel, the poor misthress.' '_I'm_ the mistress, slut.' 'Ma'am, dear, she's very bad.' '_Where_ is she ?' 'In her room, Ma'am,' answered Betty, with blubbered cheeks.
'Where are you going, minx ?' cried M.M., with a terrible voice and look, and striding toward the door, from which Moggy was about to escape.
Now, Moggy was a sort of heroine, not in the vain matter of beauty, for she had high cheek bones, a snub nose, and her figure had no more waist, or other feminine undulations, than the clock in the hall; but like that useful piece of furniture, presented an oblong parallelogram, unassisted by art; for, except on gala days, these homely maidens never sported hoops.