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"'Over camped in old Santa Anna's dance. hall, a-drinkin' of mescal an' waitin' for dark, says the girl. "'All right, says Mace; 'I'll prance over poco tiempo, an' it's mighty likely them aliens from Anton Chico is goin' to have a fitful time.
But this little Esquimo, whose name is Pomyak, he looked out on the world as if he wuz a-drinkin' in knowledge in every pore; he looked kinder cross, too, and morbid. I guess lookin' at ice-suckles so much had made his nater kinder cold. And who knows what changes it will make in his future up there in the frozen north his summer spent here in Chicago?
Says Jesse, tryin' his best to be civil, 'Nay, lad, it's like this. You've getten to choose which way it's goin' to be. I'll ha' nobody across ma doorstep as goes a-drinkin', an' borrows my lass's money to spend i' their drink. Ho'd tha tongue, 'Liza, sez he, when she wanted to put in a word 'at I were welcome to th' brass, and she were none afraid that I wouldn't pay it back.
"She's light," said the elder. "Sh'u'dn't be s'prised," said Old Man Bogle, rolling his eyes, "if she was one of them actoresses. Venture to say she's filled with worldly wisdom, that gal, and that sin and cuttin' up different ways hain't nothin' strange nor unaccustomed to her." "While I was a-drinkin' down her coffee out of that measly leetle cup," said the deacon, "she was that brazen!
"When people are bound to disagree, as we have disagreed for years, it is best to avoid conversation." "Zed like the Church all over, Pazon!" chuckled the imperturbable Joltram. "Zeems as if I 'erd the 'Glory be'! But if tha don't want any talk, why does tha coom in 'ere wheer we'se all a-drinkin' steady and talkin' 'arty, an' no quarrellin' nor backbitin' of our neighbours?
"I's come to fetch yer over to me own house ye an' yer fiddle," said Nolan. "The divil ye has!" retorted Pat Kavanagh. "Saints presarve ye, lad, what kind o' rum has ye bin a-drinkin' of this mornin' already?" "Herself bes wantin' ye, Pat ye an' yer fiddle, for to have a concert wid," said the skipper, with childlike trust and delight in his voice.
'Ere I takes up a blessed son of a pop-gun what calls hisself anything you care to mention, and turns out to be a blessed mounseer at the end of it! 'Ere 'ave I been drivin' of him up and down all day, a-carrying off of gals, a-shootin' of pistyils, and a-drinkin' of sherry and hale: and wot does he up and give me but a blank, blank, blanketing blank!"
Fitzgerald would be at home this afternoon?" "Oh, yes, sir, 'e will," answered Mrs. Sampson, "a-drinkin' tea with his young lady, who is Miss Frettlby, and 'as got no end of money, not but what I mightn't 'ave 'ad the same 'ad I been born in a 'igher spear." "You need not tell Mr. Fitzgerald I have been here," said Gorby, closing the gate; "I'll probably call and see him myself this afternoon."
'Ere I takes up a blessed son of a pop-gun what calls hisself anything you care to mention, and turns out to be a blessed mounseer at the end of it! 'Ere 'ave I been drivin' of him up and down all day, a-carrying off of gals, a-shootin' of pistyils, and a-drinkin' of sherry and hale; and wot does he up and give me but a blank, blank, blanketing blank!
"You black rascal," he said, "what've you bin up to?" "Didn't 'spect you back so soon. Boss," gasped the negro. "Said you wouldn't be back till termorrer." "No matter when you expected us back," said the Deacon, shaking him still harder, while Si winked meaningly at Shorty. "What d'ye mean by sich capers as this? You've bin a-drinkin' likker, you brute." "Cel'bratun my freedom," gasped the negro.
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