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Updated: June 27, 2025
In the midst of our disthress, it plased the Lord to remove my father, widout softenin' his heart towards me. But he left my Mike three hunder pounds; to be his whin he came to a right age; and he appointed my brother Pat guardian to the bhoy.
His eyes glittered dangerously and his wide mouth wreathed into an unholy grin, "'Tis a shmart man that iver puts ut over on me at th' Orderly-room. . . Fwhy du I not sind him into th' Post? . . . eyah! fwhy du I not? . . ." Chin sunk on his huge chest, he mused awhile. George waited. "Listen, bhoy!" A terrible earnestness crept into the soft voice.
For a moment Slavin stared after Redmond's crouching form, as his subordinate disappeared in the gloom, "Thrust no harm comes tu th' lad," he muttered irresolutely, "quick as a flash is th' bhoy wid his head, eyah! but he's inclined tu be over rash at toimes." "Oh, he's all right," hissed Yorke reassuringly, "don't you get worrying over him making any bad breaks, Burke.
But Spud O'Malley must have experienced no such delicacy of feeling. He let go one long pent-up breath. "And may the saints protect us!" he said. "The Lake of Death outside, and inside here is purgatory itself, or I don't know my geography. But you made it, Chet, me bhoy; you made it! What a sweet little pilot you are!"
"Because, me bhoy, I intind to take a look in there and see what there is to be seen," he replied. "If you will excuse my saying so, I think you had better not," said I. "In my opinion it would be wiser to meddle with these other places as little as possible until we have beaten up Merlani's quarters.
He strook him!" screeches out Scrub Greene, who was always a lawyer; an' some of the men tuk up the shoutin'. "Peg out that man!" sez my orf'cer bhoy, niver losin' his timper; an' the non-coms wint in and pegged out Scrub Greene by the side av Peg Barney. 'I cud see that the draf' was comin' roun'. The men stud not knowin' fwhat to do. "Get to your tents!" sez me orf'cer bhoy.
"I talked to me ould non-coms they was sober an' betune me an' thim we wore the draf' over into their tents at the proper time. The little orf'cer bhoy he conies round, dacint an' civil-spoken as might be. "'Rough quarthers, men, sez he, 'but you can't look to be as comfortable as in barricks. We must make the best av things.
"Sure an' ye can answer me if you loike, for ye ar'n't dumb, me bhoy, an' ye can spake English fast enough. Now. I'll ax ye for the last toime whare d'ye spring from?" "Spring from?" I repeated after him, more puzzled than ever and awed by his manner, he spoke so sharply, in spite of his jovial face and twinkling eyes.
"I feel about you, dear," she said, laughing, "as Micky Free did about the soul of his father in Purgatory. He had been payin' for masses for what seemed to him an uncommonly long time. 'How's th' oul bhoy gettin' on? Micky asked the priest.
"`Faith I'm not the bhoy fur to disobleege the ladies, says I, `ye can give us a cup, if that's all ye wants me fur to do. Wid that, Bridget ups with the taypot, a little brown one it wor, sure, by the same token, an' pours me out a cupful in a mug that lay handy sure on the counther, which I drinks to the hilth of her an' Missis Wilkins as wor standin' by.
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