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O'Rourke, wandering retrospectively in the mazes of the marriage service, "to have and to howld till death bad luck to him! takes one or the ither of us." "You're a blasphemous creature," said Mrs. Bilkins, severely. "Thim's the words his riverince spake this mornin', standin' foreninst us," explained Mr. O'Rourke. "I stood here, see, and me jew'l stood there, and the howly chaplain beyont."
"Is it there ye are, me jew'l!" cried Mr. O'Rourke, discovering her. Mrs. Bilkins wheeled upon Margaret. "Margaret Callaghan, is that thing your husband?" "Ye-yes, mum," faltered Mrs. O'Rourke, with a woful lack of spirit. "Then take it away!" cried Mrs. Bilkins. Margaret, with a slight flush on either cheek, glided past Mrs.
She put out a pair of withered trembling hands, took up the locket, examined it for a minute, and then burst out laughing: "As I live, it's the great Hoggarty diamond!" Good heavens! what was this talisman that had come into my possession? "Look, girls," continued the old lady: "this is the great jew'l of all Ireland.
'Consistency, thou awt a jew'l. It's juz as the povvub says, 'All work an' no pay keep Jack a small boy. An' yet," he hurriedly added, remembering his indebtedness to his auditor, "'tis aztonizhin' 'ow 'tis expensive to live. I haven' got a picayune of that money pwesently! I'm aztonizh' myseff!" The plague grew sated and feeble.
'Mickey jew'l, the baby, who is only four, but 'who can handle a stick as bould as a man, is generally clad in a ragged skirt, slit every few inches from waist to hem, so that it resembles a cotton fringe.
Very soon it was their turn to be kind to Mrs. Riley. They attended her husband's funeral. He had been killed by an explosion. Mrs. Riley beat upon the bier with her fists, and wailed in a far-reaching voice: "O Mike, Mike! Me jew'l, me jew'l! Why didn't ye wait to see the babe that's unborn?" And Mary wept.
Well, indeed sir, ye may say she is a good girl, and the pride and glory of her father honest old Jack Costigan. The man who gets her will have a jew'l to a wife, sir; and I drink his health, sir, and ye know who I mean, Major."
O'Rourke, wandering retrospectively in the mazes of the marriage service, "to have and to howld, till death bad luck to him! takes one or the ither of us." "You 're a blasphemous creature," said Mrs. Bilkins, severely. "Thim 's the words his riverince spake this mornin', standin' foreninst us," explained Mr. O'Rourke. "I stood here, see, and me jew'l stood there, and the howly chaplain beyont."
'Divil a fut I'll go down, says the waiver. Well, as soon as the waiver knew he was dead asleep, by the snorin' of him and every snore he let out of him was like a clap o' thunder that minit the waiver began to creep down the three, as cautious as a fox; and he was very nigh hand the bottom, when, bad cess to it, a thievin' branch he was dipindin' an bruk, and down he fell right a-top o' the dhraggin; but if he did, good luck was an his side, for where should he fall but with his two legs right acrass the dhraggin's neck, and, my jew'l, he laid howlt o' the baste's ears, and there he kept his grip, for the dhraggin wakened and endayvoured for to bite him; but, you see, by rayson the waiver was behind his ears, he could not come at him, and, with that, he endayvoured for to shake him off; but the divil a stir could he stir the waiver; and though he shuk all the scales an his body, he could not turn the scale agin the waiver.
You're trying to get away, true: you've nearly lost those bright eyes, and I wouldn't want to swear to your ears or your chin, just yet; but your blessed old-gold hair is there all right, and it's put on to stay. The rest of you will be coming back tomorrow, or next day, or the day after. And then you'll be all on deck, jew'l. You'll see; you'll hear; you'll speak, by heaven! Won't she, Lizzie?"
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