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McGrath's landing-net, but he shied off so quickly that I thought he would break the line. Away down he went as stiffly and stubbornly as possible, and there he lodged, rubbing his nose against a rock and trying to get rid of the hook. Half a dozen times I dislodged him and brought him up, but he was so wild and strong I did not dare to force him in.
We had not heard from O'Brien for two months, when a letter arrived, stating that he had seen his family, and had bought a few acres of land, which had made them all quite happy, and had quitted with Father McGrath's double blessing, with unlimited absolution; that he had now been a month in town trying for employment, but found that he could not obtain it, although one promise was backed up by another.
McGrath's fireman was uncoupling the engine from the Rosemary, and Mr. Somerville Darrah, complacently lighting his after breakfast cigar, came across to the hissing ember fire. "A word with you, gentlemen, if you will faveh me," he began. "I am about to run down to Argentine on my engine, and I propose leaving the ladies in your cha'ge, Misteh Winton.
"I'm not saying anything, am I? Only only it's right lucky she can fill my place so so well while I I got to be away awhile." Her barbed comment only pricked him to happy thought. He made a quick foray into his side pocket. "I brought up one of these pink velvet roses for you to look at, Mil. It's Gert's idea to festoon these underneath the net tunic on McGrath's blue taffeta. See, like that.
McGrath's magnificent and descriptive denunciation, addressed to the entire neighborhood, in which Elmendorf's personal character and professional career came in for glowing and not altogether inaccurate portrayal.
Boulder, "to let McGrath's name stand." "We can't do without him," said Mr. Fyshe, "he has seven of the wards in the hollow of his hand. If we take his offer he absolutely pledges us every one of them." "Can you rely on his word?" said Mr. Boulder. "I think he means to play fair with us," answered Mr. Fyshe. "I put it to him as a matter of honour, between man and man, a week ago.
The usual smooth course of the convention, upset by this unlooked-for resistance from two quarters, staggered helplessly, and was on the point of coming to a deadlock. It was Michael McGrath's shrewd perception of the situation which solved the problem.
The fish had ceased to bite where we were, and at Mr. McGrath's suggestion we dropped down the stream to where my friend and his darkey were. His experience with the flies had been similar to mine, but he had too much regard for his fine fly-rod, he said, to use it for "slinging round a bait as big as a herring." He had taken it to pieces and put it away.
"Johnny McGrath's 'spree, a fulling-frolic, came off one Saturday night, about a fortnight after this; and while the web of strong, coarse homespun cloth, which was to furnish Mac and his boys with their year's stock of outer clothing, was being duly lifted, rubbed, banged on a bench, and twisted by the strong hands of about thirty men and women, Jim led the roaring choruses, and manipulated his end of the cloth with a vigor which at once delighted and alarmed the fair weaver thereof.
"The bally old thing seems to be in fairly decent shape for running," was McGrath's verdict after the checking had been completed, "and since we've got some distance to cover before we make Tampa Bay, p'raps we'd better be shoving off." "No such big hurry as that, boys," observed Jack. "I'm a bit hungry myself and reckon you both must be in the same boat.
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