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They was livin' down near Healey's slough in wan iv thim ol' Doherty's houses, not Doherty that ye know, th' j'iner, a good man whin he don't dhrink. No, 'twas an ol' grouch iv a man be th' name iv Malachi Doherty that used to keep five-day notices in his thrunk, an' ownded his own privit justice iv th' peace.
"Long may thay wave!" sez I, seein I shood git into a scrape ef I didn't look out. In a privit conversashun with Brigham I learnt the follerin fax: It takes him six weeks to kiss his wives. He don't do it only onct a yere & sez it is wuss nor cleanin house. He don't pretend to know his children, thare is so many of um, tho they all know him.
An' what am I? Oh, Mary Mother av Hiven, an ould dhrunken, untrustable baste av a privit that has seen the reg'ment change out from colonel to drummer-boy, not wanst or twice, but scores av times! Ay, scores! An' me not so near gettin' promotion as in the first!
They come round me an' shuk me, an' I tould thim I was in privit employ wid an income av me own, an' a drrrawin'-room fit to bate the Quane's; an' wid me lies an' me shtories an' nonsinse gin'rally, I kept 'em quiet in wan way an' another, knockin' roun' the camp. 'Twas bad even thin whin I was the Angil av Peace.
Have thought, Sargint, sez I. 'Is ut worth ut? "'Ye're a bould man, sez he, breathin' harrd. 'A very bould man. But I am a bould man tu. Do you go your way, Privit Mulvaney, an' I will go mine.
They come round me an' shuk me, an' I tould thim I was in privit employ wid an income av me own, an' a drrrawin'-room fit to bate the Quane's; an' wid me lies an' me shtories an' nonsinse gin'rally, I kept 'em quiet in wan way an' another, knockin' roun' the camp. 'Twas bad even thin whin I was the Angil av Peace.
Then to me "Ye say Dhrumshticks is well, an' his lady tu'? I niver knew how I liked the gray garron till I was shut av him an' Asia." "Dhrumshticks" was the nickname of the Colonel commanding Mulvaney's old regiment. " Will you be seein' him again? You will. Thin tell him" Mulvaney's eyes began to twinkle "tell him wid Privit " "Mister, Terence," interrupted Dinah Shadd.
That's just about wot 'e would say. When I've put in my boy's service it's a bloomin' shame that doesn't count for pension I'll take on a privit. Then I'll be a Lance in a year knowin' what I know about the ins an' outs o' things. In three years I'll be a bloomin' Sergeant.
As he passed, one of the sailors doffed his cap and bowed with great respect. "That's not the admiral, Alphonse," whispered another of the crew, chuckling. "It's only his privit secretary." "Ah, I haf meestake!" But Alphonse had made no mistake. He knew who it was. His mates did not see the smile of irony, of sly ridicule, which stirred his lips as he bowed to the passer.
They do not fly back toward me! sez I, lookin' him betune the eyes. "'You're a good man, sez he, lookin' me betune the eyes an' oh he was a gran'-built man to see! 'you're a good man, he sez, 'an' I cud wish, for the pure frolic av ut, that I was not a Sargint, or that you were not a Privit; an' you will think me no coward whin I say this thing.
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