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Updated: May 15, 2025
He planted his pink feet on his mother's thigh and gave a mighty lunge and whoop. "He's go-un to be a wicked bruiser," said proud Mrs. Riley. "He" the pronoun stood, this time, for her husband "he never sah the child. He was kilt with an explosion before the child was barn."
Riley, in ostentatious rebuke. "Mike!" she cried, laughingly, as the action was repeated. "Ye rowdy, air ye go-un to fight the gintleman?" She laughed sincerely, and the Doctor could but notice how neat and good-looking she was. He condescended to crook his finger at the babe. This seemed to exasperate the so-called rowdy.
"Z-afrai'," said Mazaro; "d'they frai' to do an'teen een d-these-a crowth." "That's so," said the Irishman; "I say, that's so. If I don't feel very much like go-un, I'll not go; I say, I'll not go. We've no business to-night, eh Mazaro?" "No, Senor." A second evening was much the same, Mazaro repeating his warning.
"Mazaro," said he, "I'm go-un around the caurnur a bit; I want ye to wait heer till I come back. I say I want ye to wait heer till I come back; I'll be gone about three-quarters of an hour." Mazaro assented.
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