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I only bought into the business a while ago, and the new sign's not ready yit. Me name is O'Shaughnessy, sor. "'What? says I. And then: 'WHAT? "'O'Shaughnessy. Michael O'Shaughnessy. "'Hold on! I sung out. 'For the land sakes, hold on! WHAT'S your name? "He bristled up like a cat. "'Michael O'Shaughnessy, he roars, like the bull of Bashan. 'D'yez find any fault with it?
A glance told her that Dalrymple was a gentleman, and she was reassured by the gravity of his voice and by the fact that he was evidently acquainted with the abbess's condition, and must, therefore, be a friend of Sor Tommaso. When he had finished speaking, she immediately looked down again, and seemed to be hesitating. "Open the door, Sister Filomena," she said at last.
O'Hagan paused in the gloom below, his upturned face quaintly illuminated by the flame of a wax taper in his gaslighter. "I'm dining in town to-night, O'Hagan, and dropped around to dress. Is anybody else at home?" "Nivver a wan, sor. Shure, th' house do be quiet's anny tomb " "Then who was that lady, O'Hagan?" "Leddy, sor?" in unbounded amazement. "Yes," impatiently.
On the whole, the two nuns decided to let him in, and then there was a jingling of keys and a clanking of iron bars and a grinding of locks, and presently a small door, cut and hung in one leaf of the great, iron-studded, wooden gate, was swung back. Sor Tommaso stooped and held his case before him, for the entrance was low and narrow. "God be praised!" he exclaimed, when he was fairly inside.
Then a man came running into our traverse: "Shure, sor," he said, "and it's gas-shells the dirty swine are sending over. My eyes seem to be burning out." His eyes were undoubtedly bad. Tears were pouring down his cheeks, and he was trying to ease the pain by binding his handkerchief over them.
Emily's commanding spirit seized on the reins of government, and employed each of her schoolfellows in the occupation which she was fittest to undertake. "Miss de Sor, let me look at your hand. Ah! I thought so. You have got the thickest wrist among us; you shall draw the corks. If you let the lemonade pop, not a drop of it goes down your throat.
"Captain Warren here," she said, "was asking where you all found sleeping quarters." Mrs. Moriarty smiled broadly. "Sure, 'tis aisy," she explained. "When the ould man is laid up we're all happy to be a bit uncomfortable. Not that we are, neither. You see, sor, me and Nora and Rosy sleep in the other bed; and Dinnie has a bit of a shakedown in the parlor; and Honora is in the kitchen; and "
Coming to a fruit-stand, I invested in a couple of bananas, and then asked its proprietor where Hallock Street was. "Sure an' it's the first street beyant the cable road," was the reply. "And where is the cable road?" I queried. "Two squares that way, sor," and the woman pointed it out. I thanked her and hurried on.
In less than a quarter of an hour, he and Dalrymple were on their way to Sor Tommaso's house, which was in the piazza of Subiaco, not far from the principal church. Half a dozen peasants, who had met the muleteers bringing the wounded doctor home from the spot where he had been found, followed the two men, talking excitedly in low voices and broken sentences.
"I'll show you, sor," said the caterer's man, and he sprang up the stairs before Westover, with glad alacrity. In a little room at the side of that where the men's hats and coats were checked, Alan Lynde sat drooping forward in an arm-chair, with his head fallen on his breast. He roused himself at the flash of the burner which the man turned up. "What's all this?" he demanded, haughtily.
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