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Updated: May 16, 2025
As it was, I did not altogether succeed, for, Whipcord being taller than I, I could not help coming in for one or two downward blows, which, however, thanks to my hard head, seemed more formidable to the spectators than they really were. "Not half bad," was Flanagan's encouraging comment when in due time I retired to his side for a short breathing space.
It is evident that Nogher had spirits at work for the purpose both of watching and contravening all Flanagan's plans, and, if possible, of drawing him into some position which might justify the "few friends," as he termed them, first in disgracing him, and afterwards of settling their account ultimately with a man whom they wished to blacken, as dangerous to the society of which they were members.
Across the open roadstead Flanagan's old boat crept under her patched lug sail. Priscilla, standing on the shore of Craggeen, watched eagerly. At first she could see the occupants of the boat quite plainly, a man at the tiller, a woman sitting forward near the mast. She had no difficulty in recognising them.
It was notorious that the Salon had refused pictures which were afterwards famous; it was the first time Philip had sent, and he must expect a rebuff; Flanagan's success was explicable, his picture was showy and superficial: it was just the sort of thing a languid jury would see merit in.
"So will you have if you don't talk lower, you young idiot," said Flanagan. "Yes, it's the grin that fetches Smith, I fancy. I grinned at him one day, meaning to be friendly, but he didn't half like it." I laughed at this, greatly to Flanagan's wrath. Luckily, however, no evil consequences happened, and we reached church without any more bad marks.
"He was damn near having to swim for it," said Peter, as the boat righted herself and slipped over the warp. "Who is he?" "I don't rightly know who he is," said Peter, "but he paid four pounds for the use of Flanagan's old boat for a fortnight, so I'm thinking he has very little sense." "He has none," said Priscilla. "Look at him now."
Whereupon I was drawn out to narrate, greatly to Flanagan's satisfaction, the affair of Cad Prog and his baby sister. "Hurrah!" said he, when I had done. "Hurrah, you're a troublesome! That makes seven troublesomes, and only two backwards!" and in his jubilation he gave a specially vigorous kick out behind, and finally drove the obstinate boot home.
"Herself and a gentleman that was along with her settled with my da yesterday for the use of the boat, the way I'd row her anywhere she'd a fancy to go." "That was the gentleman who has Flanagan's old boat, I suppose?" "It was not then, but a different gentleman altogether."
It was generally believed that he was a dipsomaniac, sent to the west of Ireland to be cured. It was said that he was very rich and had already ordered huge quantities of meat from Johnny Conerney. He was certainly of unsound mind: Mr. Flanagan's hints about fairies settled that point.
Flanagan's employers had given her as a Christmas gift, and on which they were all to dine. Mrs. Smith had also contributed something to this festival in the shape of oranges and nuts, and had also given Pollie a few sprigs of holly with which to deck their room.
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