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Updated: June 15, 2025
He was always running, leaping, jumping, climbing, turning cartwheels and somersaults, vaulting fences and “chinning” himself unexpectedly whenever he came to a doorway. “Oh, Masther Billy, ’tis the choild that you are!” Granny would say, twinkling. “Yes, ma’am,” Billy would answer.
“To-morrow, I’m going to fill that bowl with asters,” Maida explained. “OI’m sure the choild has done foine,” Granny Flynn said, “Oi cudn’t have done betther mesilf.” “Now come and look at your rooms, Petronilla,” Billy begged, his eyes dancing. Maida opened the door leading into the living-room. Then she squealed her delight, not once, but continuously, like a very happy little pig.
She waited until Laura had disappeared into the court. “Granny,” she called impetuously, “a little girl’s been here who I think is the hatefullest, horridest, disagreeablest thing I ever saw in my life.” “Why, what did the choild do?” Granny asked in surprise. “Do?” Maida repeated. “She did everything. Why, she—she—” She interrupted herself to think hard a moment. “Well, it’s the queerest thing.
It will cost you twenty dollars for medicine enough to last you " "To last me a life-time, I s'pose," she cried out, and continued: "Docther, me dear old man, you're an old jackass! a hombug, a hypocrite and an imposcher! Sure, I niver had a married husband, and a divil of a choild am I the mither of.
"Faith, yer honour, I haven't tasted a dhrop of anythin' barrin' tay since yesterday noon at Eight Bells. May I die this minnit if I have, sor," boldly asserted the accused in a rich Irish brogue that was as distinct as the doctor's voice. "It's the rheumaticks, sure! I've got 'em in the legs bad this toime and can't hould mesilf up at all, nor walk more than a choild!"
"We'll be happy to have you, ma'am," and with a salute, the old soldier marched out the door. "Indade, Miss Ruthie, an' it's proud I am to go wid ye," said Mrs. O'Malligan some hours later, in response to Miss Ruth's request to go over to the Armory with her, "just ye wait till I starts the Angel choild up the steps," and Mrs.
“And after that, the poor choild ran away to America and I niver have seen her since. Her father died repenting av his anger aginst her. But ut was too late. At last, in me old age, Oi came over to America, hoping Oi cud foind her. But, glory be, Oi had no idea ’twas such a big place! And Oi’ve hunted and Oi’ve hunted and Oi’ve hunted. But niver a track of her cud Oi foind—me little Annie!”
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