The Hounds of the Morrigan by Pat O'Shea Page B

Brigit.
    ‘Cos I diden know. I haden any idea. Oh, dey shambizzle me nicely,’ was the glum reply.
    ‘How?’ asked Brigit.
    ‘Lass night in da gloamen, I wuz hoppen along as is me wont, when what did I see but dis big blue van. Its back doors wuz wide open and dere wuz happy, careless music comen out of it, an’ it made me feel all rollicksome an’ skipperish. An dere wuz a big sign on a Neasel. I hop over to da sign. It said: “Gala Night Tonight. Frogs Free ‘Till Ten O’Clock.” I never even stop to dither. Oh, what a froggy fool I wuz!’
    At this point, the frog’s eyes glistened and he looked as sad as a soggy bun.
    ‘What happened?’ whispered Pidge.
    The frog sniffled for a moment or two and then he carried on with his story.
    ‘All lighthearted, I hop inside. I taught I’d be dancin’ a fundango and de pokey-hokey, an’ atin’ thim Roshyian fish eggs—Havacare, dey’s called or sumthin like that—thim that comes from far away over the Ballthrick Sea—an’ drinkin’ cordials an’ everythin’ until the cows come home. I taught wrong, diden I?’
    ‘Then what happened?’ asked Brigit.
    ‘Dey got me inside an’ clang da doors. Den, off on a joy-ride, so I taught, until dey ended up here at dis glasshouse. I knew sumthin wuz wrong, when dey made da van vanish.’
    ‘The van vanish?’ Brigit repeated in a puzzled voice.
    ‘Dey made it disappear an’ dere I wuz standen on dis very spot. “Are you up to da mark?” dey said. “What mark?” I ask nawnchalonkly. “No lip from you ” dey said. I taught to meself, “Dis creshin is da better part of valour,” so I kep’ quiet. “You’re mean an’ ugly an’ you got big eyeballs,” dey said, “You’ll do fine.” I said nuffin. Den, dey learned me all about “HALT” an’ “TRESSASSERS” an’ den dey showed me da mallet. “See dis?” dey said. I seen it awright. “One false move from you an’ you get a crack on yer pate. An’ after you’ve been batted on da crust,” dey said, “we’ll give ya to thim Frenchie Ones an’ dey’ll ate da leggies off ya. Or failen dat,” dey said, “We’ll putcha down a swally-hole an’ you’ll get swoggled.” Oh, dey gev me da wobblies when dey said dat about me legs. Still, dat’s life—as da Philloppytors say.’
    The frog made an obvious attempt at perking himself up by means of Philosophy. He managed to look more cheerful.
    ‘Is that all?’ asked Pidge softly.
    ‘Dat’s all, an’ if you ask me, it’s moren enuff,’ said the frog.
    ‘What’s your name? Have you got one?’ Brigit asked.
    ‘Course I got one! What do you think I am, a nonny mush? I doan go round all nonny mush like a bit of pondweed,’ the frog said scornfully.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘I never tell. Wild Frenchie Cooks cudden drag it outa me.’
    ‘Then you’re only an oul’ nonny mush, after all,’ said Brigit.
    ‘No I’m not,’ the frog said. ‘But, “Dis creshin is da better part of valour,” is what I say; an’ I wudden like dem two in dere to find out me name, in case dey got more power over me. Oh! I could end up turned into a prince in a sailor-suit, or sumsuch calamity, if I diden watch out. Oh!’ And he went quite glassy-eyed with horror.
    ‘I’d look cute in a sailor-suit,’ he continued after a moment, ‘an’ I’d never see Miss Fancy Finnerty, me own true love again.’
    ‘Who’s she?’ asked Brigit.
    ‘What? Never heard of Miss Fancy Finnerty? Her what I’ll never see agen?’
    ‘Of course you’ll see her again,’ Pidge said gently.
    ‘No I won’t,’ said the frog. ‘I gotta stay here.’
    ‘Why don’t you just hop off?’ asked Brigit.
    The frog gave her a stupid look full of pity.
    ‘Cos dat’d be one false move, wudden it?’ he said, in a tone that implied that Brigit was a fool who couldn’t see the obvious.
    ‘But, if you hopped off when they weren’t here, or when they weren’t looking, they couldn’t do anything to you, could they? You’re a