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Now Micky was proud of his strength, and of the position of leader which it had secured him. Moreover he was democratic in his tastes, and had a jealous hatred of those who wore good clothes and kept their faces clean. He called it putting on airs, and resented the implied superiority.
Micky looked astonished as the dirt flew past his nose, but refused to retire. "Well, if you won't go away, come down in here, then," said Agony. "Here, Micky, Micky," she called coaxingly. Micky, clumsy puppy that he was, made a wild leap into the ravine and landed upon the sharp point of a jagged stump, cutting a jagged gash in his shoulder. How he did howl!
I never saw her so smiling and bright; but she seemed quieter than usual, and avoided poor Micky so skilfully that it was really a pleasure to watch her. The Old Fellow came in late, with his tie all crooked, as it always was; I saw Sylvia blush and nudged Ruggles to look. "She's thinking of the letter," he said. Ruggles and I never meant to listen, upon my word we didn't. It was pure accident.
The boxes contained Persons. In the galleries was the Foreordained Verdict. The claque was there as it had originated in the Stone Age and was afterward adapted by the French. Every Micky and Maggie who sat upon Creary's amateur bench, wise beyond their talents, knew that their success or doom lay already meted out to them by that crowded, whistling, roaring mass of Romans in the three galleries.
Now, only the day previous, Micky had noticed hanging in a window in Chatham Street, a silver watch, and chain attached, which was labelled "GENUINE SILVER, ONLY FIVE DOLLARS." Since Micky had been the possessor of a blue coat with brass buttons, his thoughts had dwelt more than ever before on his personal appearance, and the watch had struck his fancy.
"Go in, Micky!" shouted the latter, who was rather a coward on his own account, but liked to see others fight. "Polish him off, that's a good feller." Micky was now boiling over with rage and fury, and required no urging. He was fully determined to make a terrible example of poor Dick.
Didn't I tell the foreman the man wuz dyin'? An' niver a breath did I draw fer the last twinty miles, an' up an' down the hills like the divil wuz afther me wid a poker." "Have you no doctor up there?" "Docthor, is it? If that's what ye call him, fer the drunken baste that he is, wallowin' 'round like Micky Murphy's pig, axin' pardon av the pig." "Are there any more sick?" "Sick?
"There now, Dolly dear," said the excellent woman, "see what the lady says! you're to tell her just exactly what Micky said, only this very minute in the garden." Which naturally excited Dolly's suspicion, and made her impute motives. She retired within herself a self which, however, twinkled with a consciousness of hidden knowledge and a resolution not to disclose it.
Get up, Micky Donoghue, you big, burnt-shinn'd spalpeen you, and let the dacent boy sit at the fire." "Hulabaloo hoo-hoo-hoo to go to give me such a welt, only for sitting at the fire, and me brought turf wid me." "To-day, Tim?" "Yes, sir." "At dinner time, is id?" "Yes, sir." "Faith, the dacent strain was always in the same family."
'Bedad, but that's a fine smell with it, says he, for Micky was mighty particular in his aitin' and drinkin'. 'I'll take a dhrop of that, says he, not noticing me particular, and if ever I'd the saycret of a good cup he gets it, me consayling me face. 'What will it be? says he, setting down the mug, 'What would it be, Micky, from your Mother? says I, and I lifts me head.
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