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Faix, and the same was a forced play, me bein' the height I am, and her over six fut. 'I love yez, I sez; 'say yez love me!" "Well, what did she say?" asked Casey, as Mr. Quilty paused for breath. "She concealed her feelin's," Mr. Quilty replied sadly. "She said, 'Ay tenk ve go home now.

Casey led the way indoors, and lighted the lamps. He established Mr. Quilty in a comfortable chair, with a cigar and a cold drink. "Th' health and inclinations iv all here," said Mr. Quilty, waving his glass gracefully. "I'm glad to see yez all lookin' so well, more partic'larly the leddies." "Thank you, Mr. Quilty," said Clyde. "It's very nice of you, Mr. Quilty," said Kitty Wade.

He shifted his saddle to Dolly, a pet little gray mare; not because Shiner was tired, but because there was a hard ride in store for him on the morrow. They rode into Talapus in time for supper. Afterward Casey and McCrae discussed the coming of Farwell, and its significance. "I pumped Corney Quilty a little," said Casey.

Tom glanced down at his ancient regalia of worn leather chaps, spurs, and the old forty-one that sagged from his right hip, and grinned. "Guns is coming into style again out our way," he replied. "All the best families wears 'em. There's so many of these here durn hobos and railway men and Irish and other low characters " "Th' nerve of yez!" snorted Mr. Quilty.

Quilty, looking him sternly in the eye, "I hope th' dirty blagyards is caught red-handed and soaked hard for th' shameless and di'bolical atrocity they have perpetuated. For such abandoned miscreants hangin' is too dom ladylike a punishment. I want yez to understand me official sintimints in me official capacity clearly. Yez may quote me exact words if ye feel so disposed."

"I will not be insulted by yez," Mr. Quilty retorted with equal gravity. "I will consider the soorce from which ut comes. G'wan out of here, before I do yez injury." Immediately after dinner Casey brought up his road team, two wiry, slashing chestnuts. The Wades occupied the rear seat. Clyde sat beside Casey. The horses started with a rush that brought a gasp from Mrs. Wade.

No matther how quick a man is, if he kapes at ut long enough he meets up wid some felly that bates him till it wanst. And wanst is enough. "Plenty," McHale agreed. "Sure. The system is not to meet that sport. I don't figure he lives in these parts." Mr. Quilty blinked at him for a moment, and lowered his voice.

So saying, he dropped ungracefully from his horse and made a rush for Feng, who retreated, slammed the screen door, and, from inside, threatened the storming party with a formidable butcher knife. "Whurroo!" shouted Mr. Quilty, dancing on the steps. "Come out, ye yelly plague, knife and all, an' l'ave me knock the stuffin' out iv yez! Annyways, I'll tell ye what ye are. Ye're a "

"And the name iv yez 'McHale! as Irish, be hivins, as Con iv th' Hundred Battles!" McHale chuckled to himself, having succeeded in his purpose of getting Mr. Quilty going. "Irish? Not on your life!" he denied gravely. "What put that notion in your head? The McHales is high-grade Scotch. Always was. They come from Loch Lomond or Commarashindhu or them parts. Annie Laurie married a McHale.

But Casey, fearful of Mr. Quilty's descriptive powers, saw fit to interrupt. "Hello! What's all the row? That you, Corney?" "Yer owner has saved yer life," Mr. Quilty informed Feng. "Sure ut's me, Casey. I'm after l'arnin' this Oriental curse iv the wurruld how to talk to his betters." He mounted the steps, peering suspiciously at the occupants of the veranda. "Who's these?" he demanded.